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thespoonisvictory · 3 years

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The Exile Problem, essentially

The Exile Arc is considered far and away one of the best arcs of the dsmp, which I completely agree with. It is most definitely the strongest arc of s2 and shows off some of the best features the dsmp has to offer: fucking with a sense of time via daily twitch streams, a sense of dread even through comedic relief, shockingly good improv, and Tommy’s shaky breath.

The core of the issue with it, however, is what comes after. You see, the fundamental plot thread that hold exile together, the one that is the thematic basis and sets up a problem that is resolved in the disc finale, is this: nobody cares about Tommy Innit.

P1: Why Season 2 Works

Well, they do care. But not more than Dream cares about stopping them from doing that. Not more than they care about their own problems. And for exile, that works! The main players who would go after Tommy are taken out of commission: Techno is on bad terms with him, Tubbo has a number of logical pre-established reasons, and Wilbur is literally dead. Everyone else cares for Tommy, but not enough to check up on him when it was assumed he was fine, or when they thought maybe he deserved a bit of time away and didn’t understand the full situation.

The plot works. It makes sense.

Following this, Tommy’s inability to talk about it to Techno is logical, and Techno’s refusal to acknowledge the extent of it staring him in the face is plausible. While it likely wasn’t an intentional flaw on cc!Techno’s end, c!Techno choosing to ignore it so he would not have to adjust his world view is quite spicy. Through a variety of plot threads, no one else takes Tommy quite seriously enough either, and then Doomsday happens, and it’s all functional. Some of the characters might seem a little stubborn or oblivious, but because this is necessary for the plot to function, we nod and move on.

What we don’t want, is for the characters to be cognizant of how awful Dream is, the extent to which he was power hungry and abusive, and then nod their heads and move on. Because that turns characters from morally gray to pretty fucking reprehensible really fast. It is one thing to be a little bit silly, and another to be fully aware of the danger a person poses to not only other people but free will and the server as a whole, and side against the kid he abused. (This is foreshadowing)

The disc finale happens, and while I have my qualms with it, it gets what it needs to across: people do in fact care about Tommy Innit. When the chips are down, the majority of the server backed him when it came to it, and helped Tommy finally score what appeared to be a victory against Dream. They saw firsthand how he treated Tommy and Tubbo, and the existence of the vault, and all agreed that death would be best (later modified to life in prison).

This upholds the general principle of the server: these people are morally grey, but they aren’t awful. Deep down, people want to help each other, want community, and it is this truth that lets the dream smp continue to be a relatively hopeful place that isn’t just grimdark suffering. Even with the atrocities of exile behind them, when Dream’s work was exposed to the light, it showed that the will of the people was enough to contain him. Everything has damages, Wilbur saves Niki at the festival, Ghostboo gives Tubbo a flower, Eret apologizes et etc. The inherent goodness of human nature. Hooray.

However, problems soon arise

P2: Why After Season 2 Doesn’t Work

After the ending of exile and plots like the Syndicates plan to break out Dream begin to form, something is made clear: the special weight that exile was given in the disc finale, was not going to last, and could never have lasted. Those problems are as follows:

Tommy doesn’t lay his plot with Dream to rest. While I don’t dislike what they did in s3/4 with Dream and Tommy, Tommy keeping it as an active part of his character while he’s no longer isolate causes a few problems: if Tommy wants his plot to function like exile, where Dream is impossible for Tommy to stop, it requires the reinstating of “no one cares about Tommy Innit.” Except. They do, right? They do. We were just told they did. Despite nearly the entire server witnessing how awful Dream was, suddenly its small potatoes for a lot of them.

Dream being a menacing villain hinges on Tommy being isolated, because if people were to actually care about Tommy, all of Dream’s power would be gone.

But cc!Tommy already played that trump card in the s2 finale, pulling on all our heartstrings. But now he wants to go back to how things were and it’s just... that’s not how that works, you can’t have it both ways.

Even beyond that, the darkness of exile makes it hard for the ccs to engage with his plots at all. The ccs can only engage with Tommy to support him, unless they’re a monster and incredibly morally reprehensible, or completely oblivious. However, if ccs are engaging with Tommy to support him, it makes no sense for Dream to be an actual threat, because while Dream is powerful, its shown that there is safety and strength in numbers he cannot stop.

I’ve seen some blogs talk about how it seems like “everyone just hates c!tommy”, and yeah, that’s true, but if they like him, they look like absolute dick heads for not supporting him. But if they support him, Tommy no longer has a plot thread to stand on. Therefore, they kind of have to hate him.

And if cc!Tommy and cc!Dream hadn’t decided to make exile as dark as it was, this wouldn’t be as much of a problem. Despite Wilbur’s actions, for example, Ranboo and Tommy can still hang out with him and not seem awful, because he was nowhere near on the scale of Dream. The same goes for most villains on the server: yes, they did awful things, but nothing so blatantly unexcusable in our eyes as child abuse. People can still support them and go against them without seeming like they’re taking a giant stance on it.

Take, for example, Niki’s support of Techno, vs Niki’s support of Dream. Techno is a reprehensible character who has hurt people, Niki included, in many ways. However, narratively, we are given a strong enough reason for why Niki supports him, and Techno isn’t so immoral that while we might sideeye her, it makes her characterization more complex and interesting rather than worse.

However, her helping Dream get out of prison is another deal entirely, aside from it being ooc, it makes her look like a nearly irredeemable person. Niki knows what Dream did, and yet she still helps him. It’s not a Techno situation, where it makes her interesting. It makes her worse, and hard to root for.

But, if the entire syndicate thought that way, there would be no one to free Dream, and Tommy would have no conflict. Dream isn’t powerful enough when isolated to be that evil, anymore. So, we’re watching Niki, or Phil, or others POVs, knowing they’re meant to be sympathetic, all while knowing that they are supporting an abuser, and it is really hard to come back from that. Exile is a conflict so much darker and unambiguously worse than any other on the server, and yet in order for Tommy to keep this conflict going past its natural end point, characters we are supposed to like and sympathize with can’t believe that.

Exile was great, but it caused a fundamental disconnect between Tommy and the rest of the server, and there’s no real way to go back and retcon that into working. It indirectly made so many characters looks so much worse for the sake of the existence of conflict, and there’s a sense of dissonance about it that has existed far longer than it should have for a plot this serious.

#dsmp #dsmp meta #dsmp analysis #critical

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casadefreewill · 2 years

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Daily Fics

(I’d figure I’d just post this even if I didn’t have much commentary for these fics besides mmmm, good, fic make happy brain juices go brrrrrrr. These are still just fics I read throughout the day yesterday and enjoyed)

ATLA

Blue by blacklipscurse (bealeciphers)

Iroh insists they create a new life and identity in Ba Sing Se. Zuko wants nothing more than to bide his time until his next opportunity to return home, until he realizes ‘Lee’ can get away with things Zuko never could.

Zuko dons the mantle of the Blue Spirit again only to lose his focus when the Avatar comes to the city. This time, however, his attention is drawn to the annoying Southern Tribe warrior.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Shadow of The Chat by Pearl484

Chat Noir discovers that he has a living Shadow. Unfortunately for him, it is not fond of Ladybug.

Inspired by the prompt: 5 times Character A and B thought they didn’t have anything in common and 1 time they realized how similar they are.

I am absolutely vibing with shadow in this fic. Hell yeah, give Adrien someone who’s 1000% in his corner, who he can’t hide his problems from, and will force it to be everyone else’s problem.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

One Does Not Love Shadows by Keyseeker ( @flightfoot )

One of the nearby statues clattered to the ground. Absently, Adrien catalogued it as one of the things his father had broken in order to sell his akumatization into the Collector, all those years ago.

“Who’s there?!” Father barked, swivelling his head from side-to-side, desperately looking for whatever made the sound. “You are trespassing, and I will personally ensure that the police prosecute you to the full extent—”

“Set him free.”

The hairs on the back of Adrien’s neck prickled. It was quiet, but the emotion in it… it stirred something deep in his chest, something long repressed, kept under wraps lest indulging too much broke him.

-----

Adrien's been kept captive, a prisoner of his amok for the past year.

The arrival of his shadow from another world disrupts his father's hold.

Based off of Pearl484's "Shadow of the Chat" and wackus-bonkus's "one does not love breathing".

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

The Clark Kent Effect by deinde_prandium ( @deinde-prandium )

In which Marinette is an oblivious idiot. And may need an eye exam. Pre-reveal, post relationship.

Based on a discussion in the ML Writers Guild discord on the topic: what if Adrien got glasses, and Marinette didn’t recognize him?

Mayhaps there is no magical masking and Marinette is just face blind.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

The Five Times They Predicted They Were Going to Get Married and the One Time They (FINALLY) Got Engaged by @sariahsue

Adrinette/ladynoir post reveal. Pretty much what it says on the tin plus an engagement scene that made me tear up.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Let It Be Enough To Reach The Truth That Lies by Keyseeker ( @flightfoot )

It- it probably wasn’t a secret underground death cult.

There’d be more people around, right? Hooded figures in dark cloaks?

Just his father (and maybe Nathalie?) wouldn’t make for much of a cult.

Yeah! So… so there must be a perfectly normal, reasonable explanation for all of this. He didn’t have the slightest idea what that could be, but he was sure it existed!

They came to a stop in front of the pod.

...it looked entirely too much like a coffin.

He’s not using me as a human sacrifice, he’s not using me as a human sacrifice, HE’S NOT USING ME AS A HUMAN SACRIFICE-

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Fu accidentally drops the Black Cat Miraculous while performing his "test" in front of Collège Françoise Dupont, having arrived too early to run into Adrien, but too late to run into any of the students there.

This changes things.

I’m just vibing enemy/not-enemy au’s lately. Gabriel is just awful in this one.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

The Son of my Enemy by Saccha ( @sacchariwrites )

Cat Noir never wanted to be a villain, but he doesn't have a choice. Ladybug wishes she could save him.

A reverse love square, villain!Cat Noir AU.

HGGGFDSGHDAGFH FAKE ENEMIES BUT SOFT ;v;

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whumpersdump · 3 years

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Project Rebirth - CH7: Food, and a Well-Kept Secret Truth

Whumper has a name! Meet Marcus, to his subjects known as The Parent.

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: mild force feeding / infantilization. Like, Marcus will literally be treating Orian like an infant / collar mention / restraints / mild manhandling / implied minor pet whump (heavily implied, not shown at all. Minor as in age) / pet whump / dehuminazation / lab whump (minor tbh) / implied past torture / mass indoctrination of both ‘pets’ and people (mentioned) / unfair legal system

Marcus is enjoying Orian’s new personality (as far as they have one tbh), while also handling the preparations for the new stream of subjects that the government and a few private parties have supplied. This bit contains mostly some worldbuilding, set-up for some more story on Marcus’s side, and Toby’s backstory!

Marcus looked down on Orian from the side of their bed. They slept in the white training overall they’d gotten after the Rebirth, under the Project’s Rebirth certificate that hung on the wall. They twitched every now and then. Murmured, even though they weren’t supposed to be able to for months.

One of the technicians explained it was a malfunction they wouldn’t be able to fix. Supposedly it occurred just a week or two after they started the container procedure, but they couldn’t notice it until Orian woke up. He’d been tempted to strap them down and drug them until they couldn’t lift a finger anymore when they kept screaming for hours on end, but a little side effect of that malfunction meant they put so much pressure on their brain they needed almost as much sleep as an actual infant.

Almost innocent, which they’d soon be for real.

Even then it was the screaming that bothered him. They’d been in the container for nine months, there was nothing left of their muscles.

Their nursery, as the staff still called it, was a light green. Stark white floors, a rocking chair in the corner, though it would never be used. Marcus doubted he’d need it. Though Orian was small, it wouldn’t be a challenge. Orian’s bed was outfitted with barricades on the sides to keep them from rolling out. It could be rocked from side to side as well. He’d hung a light above it, which he let flicker when he needed their attention away from the window they gazed at during the day.

Marcus smiled as the twitches died out, and Orian let out a small puff in their sleep. Despite it being purple in color, now more than ever Orian’s collar marked them as a blank slate. And an opportunity. Orian was no more than a few weeks old by the Project’s calendar—which started at the Rebirth—but the ministry had been so pleased so far, they offered Marcus a deal. Orian. If he tamed them, and they stayed that way for a month in one of the ministry’s own pre-placement facilities, he got to keep them.

It was a small bonus compared to the dozen pets being evaluated and prepared as he sat there, but one he appreciated nonetheless. Toby fulfilled his role the best a pet like him could, but he needed someone who was exactly as he built them to be. Pets might learn best from their trainers, but the lessons only stuck with a good example. Toby was obedient, sure, but his personality was still his own. It got in the way.

If Toby were a fit applicant for the Project he would have done it, but he knew too much about how it worked. The implant could take care of it, but it would have to be permanent, which would mean Toby’s skills went away with it.

Toby was one of the rare pets these days to be raised as a person. Of course Marcus knew how the world really worked, pets were a matter of personality. Or chance, if they just happened to be left on the ministry’s doorstep. Pets these days were either obtained young, or born with the ministry. Toby was in his early twenties when he got into the wrong theoretical area at his university. Got too close to the ministry’s centuries old manufactured truth.

They did a decent job on him. He’d only been a pet for half a decade, but if you asked him he didn’t know any better. Too scared for defiance at the time of capture, that was the culprit. To aware of what he’d be turned into. When Marcus first read his file, when his previous owner submitted him to test the Project, he thought it was a conscious obedience at first.

The way most pets obeyed. Do what they say, so you don’t get hurt. It works well enough, but the owner plays too big a role. It only takes one to be too lenient, and one pet and all they’re in contact with can get ideas they shouldn’t have. Toby on the other hand, was very aware of his place in society. Acted accordingly, even when he didn’t have to.

Marcus played an experiment on him, after his owner died. He was first in line to take him in, since he’d been in his care for months. He had a few actors pull him from the kennel as if they were setting him free. Payed them thousands to try and break his training the way the few opposing groups still tried to do. He ran off and was found crying at the door of the last training facility he’d been in, begging to be fixed.

That’s what got him the first blue. The only reason the rest was still green was because sometimes he was a little too aware that he was unusually well-behaved for a pet. He tried to use it to his advantage with other pets every now and then. He would place himself above them, as if his collar was a status symbol pertaining to him, and not the trainers and owners that raised him to be the pet he was.

A soft rumble came from Orian’s stomach as they opened their eyes.

“Are you hungry?” Marcus asked. He’d gotten criticism on his supposed gentleness, but it only looked like that from the outside. The back of Orian’s mind was still aware they weren’t an infant, alongside the fact that they were as powerless as one.

He took out a bottle that contained a water-thin smoothie with enough vitamins and calories and the whatnot to suffice for a whole meal. Was a liter-sized baby bottle a bit over the top? Maybe, but training pets wasn’t half as fun without a little humiliation. Besides, Orian couldn’t see it anyway, and they needed to be fed somehow. They always felt it though. They’d stay still, until they felt it against their lips and pulled away with the memory.

That was implant not doing it’s job. They weren’t supposed to refuse it. They always got hungry enough eventually though. Sure, Marcus would have to stop letting them refuse it in the first place, but if the implant was malfunctioning that much, he had to ease them out of the bits of control they thought they had left. It had been weeks, so it seemed today would be eventually.

“Come on now, you don’t want to be hungry for the rest of the day, do you?” He brought the bottle to their face after they turned away. Orian kept avoiding. Rocking their head from side to side, it was a pathetic sight really—if he didn’t include the fact that it also looked a little cute—but to Orian it was all they could do. Enough was enough, though.

He waved his free hand, blocking the light from the window. It tricked them, allowing Marcus to force the bottle between their lips with the other before they noticed. He pressed down a little, so they couldn’t push it out. Orian pouted, but Marcus didn’t budge. They drank it up almost half way, before lulling back to sleep.

Marcus stroked their hair. “See, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”

As much as he liked watching the most defiant pet he knew sleep like a rose without the help of any sedatives at all, he had other business to attend to. He had a deal with the ministry’s department of re-training and a few private investors to put just over a dozen pets through the program, but the ministry had also given him another interesting offer.

Prevention.

Six of them. All pets that were close to coming of placement-age, or just had. Late teens, most of them. One was twenty. All of them showed signs similar to Orian’s before they peaked, even if they didn’t know it themselves.

The youngest of them could almost be measured up with Toby, but their head-trainer was concerned their obedience was too focused on consequence. They were a little too eager to please, and too disappointed if it didn’t pay off. A few years ago Marcus would have told them to place them at a residence with a… reputation, but the government had faced opposition in the past years. Placement age cut it out. No one was too happy about it, but escapes went down. Probably because pets got more time to be weakened out or trained far enough.

Except for these six, apparently. They’d been put away in the daycare as his staff interviewed the headmaster of the institute they all came from. Marcus had trained close to a dozen trainers to take on some their load. He could only be in so many places at a time. One of those six though, was a challenge he’d like to take on.

Subject Seventeen. Previously named only Theo, though at the ministry’s training facility they were planning to dub him Tyler. Eighteen years old, short file. They’d only belonged to the ministry for a week, after all.

The risk of taking in pet-smugglers to be pets themselves was a risk, but Theo was young. He was the driver at a plan to smuggle nearly two dozen escaped pets over the border. The pets got out, but the truck was easy to trace, since the kid was stupid enough to take it back. Someone high up in the government somewhere took a liking to him when they put him to trial. His luck, because he wouldn’t last a week in prison. He broke his own fingers trying to punch the Catchers that were after the pets he stole.

All it took were some government-sanctioned ‘brain scans’ and ‘blood-work’, and there it was. Misread at birth. Of course the trial wasn’t televised, but Marcus would have loved to see the look in his eyes when the judge decided he’d be shown mercy since he couldn’t know better.

Marcus strutted past the pens. Some were guest’s pets, some prospects, a few had already been accepted for evaluation. To keep his clean reputation running they got an hour in the fresh air for each six they spent there, so most of the pens were empty anyway. Seventeen was in the far back, in one of the more secure pens.

Muzzled, wearing a Rebirth-issue straitjacket and pants that strapped his legs together. A harness around his torso forced him to painlessly stay on his knees. Pain was the one thing Marcus wasn’t the greatest fan of. It thought pets to avoid punishment, rather than avoiding breaking the rules.

Seventeen leaned back with a frown when Marcus opened the pen’s door. “Oh come on now,” Marcus quieted his tone, knowing full well that Seventeen was only starting to show cracks, not breaks. He knew what he was, even if not for long. “You’ve been at this for a week and you’re this jumpy already?”

He eyed the hand trucks they used to move the subjects, but Seventeen couldn’t be sedated before evaluation, and he showed a bit too much fight for Marcus to manhandle him onto it. They had solutions for that, though. The harness that Seventeen wore was attached to a thin rail that ran through the daycare into the evaluation wing. Marcus tested the jacket to make sure Seventeen was secured, then pulled him out.

Seventeen was on the tall side, he had no problem standing. He also had no problem trying to kick him. His legs were bound together, which meant every time he tried he ended up dangling from the ceiling.

Marcus let him have at it until he was out of breath. “Are you done? We’re only going to talk.” Seventeen frowned, but didn’t kick again. At least he knew which battles he could and couldn’t win. It made him just a little bit more cooperative than he likely meant to be. “I doubt you’ve had much training, but whatever you’ve heard, this’ll be much less painful than the ministry’s methods.”

A muffled curse almost broke through the muzzle.

Marcus took the risk of standing closer. Seventeen didn’t take his chance. Good. The same rail that ran along the ceiling, also ran along the middle of the floor. Marcus leaned down and held still Seventeen’s feet as he wrapped a white bag around them, that connected to the rail. “Now let’s go, shall we?”

Pushing him forward at his back, Marcus and Seventeen entered the padded evaluation room. A chair stood in the middle, the straps dangling off.

“Now there’s options,” Marcus said. “I take you off this hook and you sit down without giving me any trouble, or you make the mistake of trying to best me, and six men will be in here to put you in an infinitely more uncomfortable position. Anything’s fine by me, as long you can speak, of course.”

That last part got his attention. Marcus untied the harness and led the subject to the chair, where he strapped down his head, and secured his limbs as far as needed.

“Now. Let’s start simple. What did your childhood bedroom look like?”

Marcus left the room with smile plastered on his face when he was done. The kid had no idea what he was doing. Answered every question in perfect honesty, so jumbled with confusion. He’d never worn a collar other than the purple one around his neck, but even without Marcus he could get on a orange or maybe even yellow on his confusion alone.

He considered running evaluation for the other five newbies as well, but his buzzer went off. Sound alarm, Orian’s room. They were screaming again, of course. He’d have to find the triggers for it. The Rebirth was simple, the transition was as smooth as it could be, but still not pleasant. After that, they knew his voice. It made it easier for them to reach the concepts of defiance and resistance. This time though, they’d been alone for an hour.

Marcus softly opened the door to their room and, sat down next to the bed. Orian’s screams had died down into sobs while he was on his way there. “Shush now,” Marcus said. “There’s no need for all this, what’s wrong?” Of course Orian wouldn’t be able to answer, but that was half the fun. The other half came when he ruffled their hair.

Orian nearly choked on a last sob, but then quieted down. Their face softened as Marcus kept running his hands over the pet’s head. “Lonely, huh?” Marcus smiled. “I guess this…” he looked around for the most effective term to use for the malfunction. Orian would be living with it for the rest of their life. “…Defect, is having some useful side effects after all.” They remembered their life before, or at least how it felt. Which meant they also remembered the severe lack in affection, just not enough to know that they didn’t use to mind.

“Don’t worry.” Marcus softly rocked the bed with his free hand. “I’ll teach you to manage them as you grow up again. I’m The Parent. That’s what I do, after all.”

Orian didn’t go back to sleep. Not surprising, given they’d had more of it than usual. Their first evaluation was in a few months, when they’d gotten enough of their function back to perform a few simple tasks and commands. Of course the implant would cause some trouble in the beginning. It might be hard for them to understand the commands. Still, a double red, or even a partial orange had to be doable. A partial yellow qualified them for placement, which meant with a partial yellow, they’d be his.

“You’re a very versatile pet, Orian. I’m sure you’ll achieve great things, for a pet.”

Tagging the Rebirth crew: @suspicious-whumping-egg @distinctlywhumpthing @panic-and-chaos @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @whump-it @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#pet whump #whump #force feeding tw #restrained whumpee #whumper POV #lab whump #I told you it'd get weirder and darker #I was two drinks (non-alcoholic because liver disorder) away from calling it a crib #which let's be real... it is #Now there is another... aspect... to infancy and well... food... if you're concerned (or interested IDK.) IF I go into that it would be #in an extra and not a plot-related chapter #Also Theo/Seventeen/Tyler will be a recurring character #as will some others #I'm going to show Project Rebirth from the outside in a little more in Marcus's chapters #so they won't be POV characters

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foxjevilwild · 3 years

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Thought on the game some more and I'm building a bit of a theory:

-Kris, when they rip their SOUL out, is not being controlled by anyone else. That's Kris, the actual character, taking those actions and creating the DARK fountains.

-They're trying to find a way to remove the SOUL, and free themself from our control.

-They freak out when Spamton[Neo] dies on Pacifist, because they realize that beings in this world die when their STRINGS are cut and they're trying to do the same to the SOUL that's controlling them. Kris wants to be free of it, but if they completely untether - they'll end up a dead husk like Spamton. (this is one of the few times their emotion is expressed and we get no choice over their reaction, this is real Kris screaming out)

-This world has crashed and looped multiple times because of what is interfering in it so Kris is unafraid of the Roaring, and prepared for the SOUL (the cage is already there in chapter 1)

-The same being responsible for the DARK is responsible for implanting the Player SOUL in Kris, and has turned Kris's world into a sort of beacon to draw in SOULs (This is probably Gaster)

-I think everything in the game is some form of acronym - DARK is probably something like "Data-Array Restructuring Kernel" and SOUL is something like "System Operator Unicode Language"

I think the world of Deltarune (and Undertale, really) is a world that knows it is a Game, that it exists as Code in some form, and that it is a constructed reality. I think Gaster (and their followers) are able to see behind the curtain and make this realization, and Gaster has dedicated his existence into first escaping his own STRINGS or script, hiding in the unused files, and then in recoding the world into the image he wants.

I think when Players arrive and start making choices in the original program, it disrupts the process he is using, and so he has created the world of Deltarune by rearranging Undertale and creating a sort of 'trap' for us, the Player, by rigging the SOUL's intended vessel.

I think the Vessel we created in Survey_Program was the original game's 'main character' for the player to control, and Gaster hijacked the process to force the SOUL into Kris.

I think it's called Survey_Program because Gaster was surveying for a suitable Player again, someone to enter their world of code and power the engine he's building there. If the player is too aware, the program crashes - because they are unsuitable for the purpose. If we're able to look too deep into the code, or know who Gaster is - it's dangerous for him and his continued existence. He doesn't care if you name it after Sans or another character (it's amusing to him) - but if you name it after him...he panics and aborts.

Basically I think Real Kris is *also* throwing a wrench in the plans of the unseen villain - they're trying to break free of this forced control and go back to a normal life. To some extent Gaster has anticipated this (he picked Kris for a reason, shaped them in the bunker) - but I think depending on the Player it can go one of a few ways:

1) Our choices align with the best interests of Real Kris, and there is formed a bond between the SOUL and Kris that allows the world to resolve in a healing way, possibly even letting go of our control over them (Similar to the True Pacifist Ending in UT)

2) The neutral ending - where we stop the Roaring but Real Kris steps in to make it happen by ripping their own SOUL out and cutting the strings ( They choose Death or Reset instead of slavery), because we are still controlling them (the neutral ending)

3) The Proceeding, where we force Kris over and over to do what we want them to do. Where we use our knowledge of the game, of the code, to break them and everyone around them to have our fun. Where our voice as the 'Player' gets to take dominance over what the game is supposed to be. (This will be like the Genocide Run)

Toby is making a commentary with each of these choices - mainly about what we expect of a sequel, how we as a fandom can both adore and reinterpret characters, and about the limitations of a sequel as opposed to an original work.

The world is a meta-text on Storytelling *and* Game Creation - it is a story told through a Game because it can only be told through a game - or it wouldn't have any of the thematic punch that it does.

The Dark is reinterpretation, rearrangement - pieces taken from their original setting and reshaped or re-contextualized into something new - still recognizable, but new. This is how a sequel is created, but it's also how we as Players interacted with the original creation. (How many Undertale AU's are there again? Hundreds?)

Anagrams are a major theme - everything in this world is a mish-mash of constituent parts. Two things combined into a new thing. Everything is repurposed and reshaped from an Original. Gaster can manipulate the code, but he can't actually write an original world...not yet. He has to work with the parts that exist. -- The same is true when creating a sequel, or continuing a story. This is both textual, and meta-textual on Toby's part. The literal act of creating a sequel to Undertale, and the game's metaphorical 'Undertale 2' rearrangement, are this amazing little interplay going on between the Audience and Author and Creation.

Our SOUL or our control over the world is how we interact with that creation - there is a sort of undercurrent of power-struggle. The artist wants to tell a story, the characters want to be true to themselves and who they are, the world wants to resolve in a natural way - but in order for us to have choices, the world has to adapt to us, change according to our whims as players of the game.

Sometimes what we want aligns with what the characters want - sometimes what we want is better for them than what they'd choose for themselves - but ultimately we are tyrannical. These little monsters are trapped in a looping prison, chained to our whims by lines of Code they can't see - living in loops bound to our Determination and our absolute mastery over them.

We get to play the game when we want, we get to choose what they do, who they love --- we get to choose how they die. We get to choose if they kill... and we get to do it again and again, changing the outcomes as we please. For Fun.

This process has been hijacked, and our usual choices that would have been coded in are ineffectual. Our 'choices' don't matter, but we still force them on the game. Some characters can ignore us, others don't or can't - sometimes we choose what the character was going to do anyway. Someone cut the string, and we have no control here...

But there are other ways...other routes...to bring our voice back into power over the game. Ways we can break the script, the same as the one who rearranged it.

I think the narrative within Deltarune is that someone is fighting back against us, against that Player and against that control. That someone is Real Kris.

Gaster created the engine beneath the world, the DARK that allows it to rearrange - and the world has been looping through, the Door-Portals into the DARK created and recreated and Player after Player has passed through with Roaring after Roaring fueling the engine he's buried somewhere beneath, hidden in the code.

Most of the denizens aware of this truth go mad, or Gaster uses them and they go mad, or they follow him in a cult like state. Gaster is the only hope for their freedom - the only one able to manipulate the CODE besides the player. Gaster is ultimately selfish, trying to break himself free of the Code - but to these beings he is the only chance at any sort of self-Determination.

Kris is intended to be a puppet, just like Spamton, just like Jevil was going to be (and failed, quarantined). Kris is the end result of Gaster's research - a false vessel for the SOUL that can be scripted along the world's pathing, a character with a pre-existing story to keep the SOUL trapped within a specified loop.

Gaster wants the Roaring, wants the world to loop. Wants us to play the game he's re-scripted for us to power whatever he's using to break things and escape his 'prison of universes' within the Games' code.

We'll have our fun, find our ending - and maybe even get the happy one. Ultimately though, we're not the only ones playing this game...we're not the only Player. Someone will come along again, or we'll reopen the save...and we feed into the engine beneath. The heart of Darkness...

Will it be enough to give them a happy save file? Or are we going to have to force the program into a total crash, expose the being manipulating the strings... will we have to create terrible circumstances for these creatures in order to free them of Gaster? Are we any better, stepping in and shaping their lives? Are they truly free to Hope...to Dream?

Kris is trying to be free of both of us. Kris is trying to save their mom and their friends. I think Kris is the true hero.

We, the player, are just another antagonist.

#long post #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #theory crafting #i'm on my bullshit again

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deans-haunted-baby · 4 years

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Lately I can’t stop thinking about Adam, like I’m legit crushed over what this show did to him. I know Supernatural was never perfect but the way it treated this character was so damn vicious, condescending and nasty; no different than a high school bully picking on an injured elementary schooler.

He never stood a chance. The thing is I don’t know what it was that made me latch onto Adam so strongly for over a decade. Maybe I could just sympathize and easily relate to his situation of being discarded and forgotten by family members. Or maybe I saw potential in this character and couldn’t fathom why no one else on that writing staff and the SPN fandom couldn’t.

I want you to take a second and absorb these pertinent facts about Adam Milligan that this show put forward. This is not anti-anything this is all the truth so bare with me:

He was the illegitimate youngest child of hunter John Winchester; a man who treated his older sons Sam and Dean like soldiers on his platoon.

Adam only saw his bio dad ONCE A YEAR and it was only to take him to ball games not to train him so that he could protect himself and his mother from (supernatural) threats.

He never knew the existence of his older brothers nor did they know about him because John deliberately ripped those pages out of his journal. Essentially trying to erase any evidence of Adam and Kate.

Because Adam grew up having no clue what was out there or about the “family business” he and his mother suffered VIOLENT PRE-MATURE DEATHS at the hands of ghouls which Adam STILL REMEMBERS long after being murdered.

Oh and John failed to kill those ghouls, providing them the golden opportunity of impersonating him and his mother so they could kill John and his half-brothers.

Adam was only an 18 year old pre-med studying medicine. Probably wanted to follow in his mother’s footsteps in helping people as she was a nurse.

Because Kate worked nights as a single mother, Adam had to grow up being his own parent at times; cooking his own meals and putting himself to bed.

Adam was ironically born on September 29th (1990) which is also known as Michaelmas aka the Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. A potential storyline that could’ve gone somewhere but didn’t.

Adam is also by birthright a Men of Letters legacy though his brothers fail to mention that 10 years later.

The last thing Adam was doing while he was in Heaven, designed to look like his Prom, he was kissing a girl Kristen McGee; whom we’ll never know about or if he’ll ever see again.

Adam was ripped out of Heaven against his will by the angels to be used and manipulated as their backup device in the Apocalypse because Sam and Dean refused to comply with their demands.

After being resurrected, Adam was then recovered, kidnapped and held hostage by TFW (Sam, Dean, Bobby and Castiel) where they all took turns mouthing off at this angsty teenager about why he should trust a bunch of complete strangers over those who made him promises.

Adam only wanted to work with the angels in order to stop Lucifer and return to his mother. Highlighting that this character had a sense of justice, responsibility, cared about doing the right thing but also had his own reasons for wanting to save the world.

Sam tried to emotionally manipulate Adam with excuses for why their dad never told him about his family. And actually had the gall to say that him and Dean would’ve looked for him had they’d known he existed so they could be a family. Forgive me if I just laugh at this for a moment 🤣

Zachariah was able to get into Adam’s head because he knew how vulnerable he was. Telling him that trusting the Winchesters would only let him down which *SPOILER ALERT* turned out to be true.

Zachariah tortured Adam for hours before the Winchesters arrived to save him. And Dean was only willing to submit to the angel when Sam was just briefly tortured.

One of the last things Dean says to Adam in 5x18 after he was shocked to see his half-brothers come to his rescue was “Cause you’re family”. Again I have to...🤣🤣

At the moment of their escape, Dean doesn’t even help Adam (WHO’D BEEN INJURDED AND TORTURED) out of the room nor does he care about ushering him to safety. Dean just grabs Sam and hurries out the door. So much for being part of the family.

The last thing Adam screams before before being possessed by Michael was “Dean, help!” and then he hears Dean say “Just hold on!”

Adam, not being Michael’s true vessel yet born from the powerful Winchester bloodline, was able to look directly at the archangel’s true form without his eyes burning out. And this is NEVER explained why.

Dean mentions Adam only a total of THREE TIMES after this happens in 5x19, 5x22 and 6x11 while Castiel mentions it to Sam in 5x21. And Sam, WHO’D BEEN THE MAIN EMOTIONAL MANIPULATOR, just doesn’t give a shit to remember him.

Castiel threw a Molotov cocktail at Michael (who was using Adam’s body) to briefly cast him out which Adam probably felt in excruciating detail based on what Michael says in 15x08.

Sam, possessed by Lucifer, pushed himself and his innocent half-brother possessed by Michael into the cage for all eternity.

Castiel somehow managed to pull Sam out of the cage but decided to leave Adam behind.

After Dean bargains with Death to get Sam’s soul and Adam out of the cage. Only to get just Sam’s soul and leave Adam to his fate. The issue is never brought up again between the Winchesters.

Adam sits a prisoner in a cage with an archangel for 10 years our time but thousands of years Hell time.

Michael most likely protected Adam from some of the horrors in Hell which is why he was able to keep his sanity.

Sam and Dean went to Hell to talk to Lucifer in the cage but continue to ignore Adam’s existence and don’t bother releasing him yet they let Lucifer escape.

Dean also went back to Hell to retrieve Bobby’s soul so he could go to Heaven and again doesn’t even bother with Adam.

Season 10 for Supernatural’s 200th episode, Sam and Dean were reminded by SPN fans putting on a musical that Adam was still in the cage yet THEY NEVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

Mary Winchester STILL doesn’t know about Adam even though she was reunited with John during the 300th episode. He’s never mentioned during their big family get-together. I guess he never counted.

Adam and Michael are finally set free of Hell only because Chuck threw a giant hissy fit at the Winchesters and opened all the gateways.

The first thing Adam wanted to do as a free man in 15x08 was not seeking revenge on his brothers for abandoning him, but to eat some diner food, change his clothes and get a “little job”

After years of imprisonment, Adam actually befriended the Prince of Heaven aka the one friend he has/the only other person besides his mother who actually gave a damn about him.

TFW trapped, kidnapped and imprisoned Adam and Michael at the bunker in order to force them to help against Chuck.

And Adam, though still angry, hurt and worn out over the situation; chose to help his brothers when there was NOTHING in it for him and successfully convinced Michael to do the same.

Despite how his brothers treated him, Adam STILL believed in their best and vouched that they “always try to do the right thing”

Adam went to Hell a cranky, sassy, angsty, naïve teenager and returned a kinder, wiser, more patient, humble and rational-thinking man who still managed to smile and laugh after enduring centuries of pain.

Dean gives Adam his much due apology for not saving him but Sam doesn’t. In fact Sam doesn’t even bring him up the next time the Winchesters see each other.

Adam’s last words on this show are to Dean and they’re “Since when do we get what we deserve?” and “Good luck” 🤓

Chuck Thanos-snapped Adam’s soul out of existence OFF-SCREEN yet Michael somehow remained in his body.

Adam was 90% of Michael’s impulse control hence why he was so dark in his last appearance without Adam because that’s the only way I can cope with that disgusting character assassination in 15x19

Jack supposedly revived Adam along with everyone else after becoming the new God. BUT his current status now reads “Unknown” instead of “Alive” so what the fuck am I suppose to think now?!

Sam and Dean didn’t even think about checking in on Adam to make sure he was okay before they hit the road on their last solo bro-outing.

If Adam really is alive then he’s doomed to a miserable, lonely existence without his best friend (who’s now dead). Broke, homeless, jobless; his brothers STILL DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS after he’d helped them in good faith. He’s legally deceased thanks to the ghouls. And he gets to look forward to demon city the moment he dies cause guess where he’s ending up?

No one remembers him even after he’d returned in 15x08

The car and the dog are more important to the Winchesters than their innocent half-brother.

Okay I realize I just unloaded a whole mountain of salt but this is the full outline of Adam’s tragic story on Supernatural. These writers never cared about him and why? What did he do to deserve this gross treatment from the show’s protagonists or just in general? Why was he even introduced if this was going to be the outcome of it all? I don’t know what’s worse leaving him in Hell (cause at least he had Michael for company) or bringing him back and not knowing what became of him after. It’s insufferable 😣 I just want everyone to know that the showrunners and writers may not care about him BUT I DO.

#adam milligan #supernatural #SPN #michael the archangel #midam #the winchesters #supernatural season 15 #supernatural season 5 #supernatural season 4 #adam x michael #michael x adam #spn meta #spn rant #Archangel Michael #the forgotten 3rd winchester brother

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infinite-xerath · 3 years

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Runeterra Retcons 1: Thresh

This is something that I did today. I plan to make this an on-going series (might even take it to YouTube someday if I get the nerve to share my voice), but for now have it as a tumblr post.))

The world of Runeterra is one of the most interesting and complex fantasy settings in modern gaming; a fictional realm bustling with fantastical beings, characters, and a wide variety of plot points offering near endless potential for story-telling. The story of League of Legends is not, in fact, a singular narrative, but rather a collection of different stories spread out across a variety of fictional countries, continents, and even dimensions.

Runeterra as we know it today wasn’t always like this, however; in 2015 Riot Games opted to effectively reboot the lore of their world to be rid of the more restrictive plot elements like Summoners and the Institute of War to allow themselves more wriggle room to tell the stories they wanted to tell. While the decision to effectively make League of Legends non-canon to its own story was initially controversial, the writers of Riot Games have effectively proven themselves extraordinarily capable of using this newfound freedom to its full potential… For the most part.

With a retconned world came the need to retcon characters; Riot has made a substantial effort in the last few years to reimagine and redefine the backstories of the iconic Champions to make them fit into the new narrative, albeit with mixed results. Let’s face it: no writer is perfect and hindsight is 20/20, so a number of characters throughout the years have been left with less-than-stellar backstories compared to most of the roster.

Welcome to Runeterra Retcons, a series in which I’ll be analyzing some of the more controversial champion bios in the game to pick apart the good, the bad, and the horribly missed opportunities. With all that out of the way, let’s begin, shall we?

Episode 1: Thresh

Thresh is at once both an interesting and a bland character. He’s arguably one of the more iconic characters in the game, to the point where he’s practically become the unofficial mascot for the Shadow Isles. In-spite of this, I’ve long felt that Thresh is one of the most awkward fits into the region; before we can discuss the problems with his current lore, however, we first need to address Thresh’s backstory pre-retcon and see if we can analyze the core of his character.

Insert original lore here

So, we can see the concept behind Thresh’s character pretty easily: he’s a jailor who loves tormenting his charges, so much so that he continues to do so even after death. If you were to describe Thresh in a single word, it would probably be “sadistic.” Unfortunately, the original lore doesn’t give a lot beyond that; not where he’s from, not when he died, not even where his prison was located. The bio itself literally says that no one knows the details, and while that does add a faint air of mystery to the character, it doesn’t do much to tie him into the faction he’s supposed to represent: The Shadow Isles.

With that out of the way, let’s now take a look at Thresh’s new bio and see how Riot decided to change him after the retcon.

Insert new lore here

Alright, so, there’s a lot to unpack here. Perhaps the most notable change is that Thresh went from tormenting people to… Tormenting “living relics.” The relics are offered no further explanation in the lore or given any prior context. There’s just… A mirror with a soul in it. There’s a sentient book hidden down in the vaults. For some reason, the monks of the Isles even decided to stash a living person down there because he infused his body with raw magic. Why? Who was this person? What did he do to end up in chains? If this was a dangerous mage, wouldn’t it be better to build a proper prison for him rather than stuff him in a vault full of powerful, dangerous artifacts?

There are so many mysteries here, but perhaps biggest one is this: why was Thresh changed from a warden of people to a warden of relics? Why did they feel the need to turn him from a jailor who enjoyed tormenting his inmates to a curator that was slowly corrupted by the very magics meant to help him do his job? Well, I believe that’s meant to tie into the change made to the Shadow Isles themselves, or rather, the Blessed Isles.

While we never had much info on what the Isles were like before becoming an undead haven, a lot of the lore suggests that they were effectively a paradise, hence the name “Blessed Isles.” This was a place without war, without starvation, without corruption. Naturally, there would be no criminals in paradise, and so this of course means that to make Thresh a warden of things that are inhuman… At least, this is the thought process one might have until they introduce the mysterious regenerating mage, but I guess he’s meant to be one bad egg amidst the crowd, assuming he even came from the Isles at all. Again, it’s never really elaborated on.

So, while the change does make a degree of sense, it kind of feels… Flat. I mean, a guy who enjoys tormenting prisoners in their cells to hear their screams sounds a lot more terrifying than a guy who just stops his sentences halfway through to spite a book. Also, the fact that his lantern just becomes a seemingly endless vessel for souls because of the Ruination is a little silly; like, I know the Black Mist does all sorts of nonsensical things to matter, but the fact that an ordinary lantern gets turned into a relic arguably far more dangerous than anything Thresh was ever guarding seems kind of backwards, at least in my opinion.

So, how can we change this? How would I, personally, retcon Thresh if given the chance? Well, there are a lot of base elements that I would keep, but also some key components I’d like to alter. I’ve written up a short bio of my own for you all to enjoy, so without further ado…

In an age all but forgotten to history, there existed a realm known as the Blessed Isles. Hidden away from the world by a veil of magical mist, the Isles were a place of peace and prosperity; a land free of war, corruption, plague and misery. This paradise was ruled by an order of sacred monks devoted to learning and enlightenment. It was within this paradise that Thresh was born and raised by a pair of humble farmers, growing up surrounded by nature’s bounty.

Though expected that he might follow in his fathers’ footsteps, Thresh showed an aptitude for learning from an early age. In-particular, Thresh seemed fascinated with matters of philosophy; the nature of the soul, morality, and other complex subjects were frequent on the boy’s mind. This attitude quickly earned Thresh the attention of the brotherhood, who invited him to join their order as soon as he was of age. Thresh agreed without hesitation, leaving the farm behind to study at the Isles’ monastery.

For many years, Thresh studied under the tutelage of the order, distinguishing himself from his peers for his ability to grasp complex philosophical issues. Though acknowledged by his teachers, Thresh was met with looks of envy and scorn from his fellow students; rather than let himself be disheartened, however, Thresh instead took an interest in the root of their envy in scorn. Upon approaching his elders with such questions, Thresh found himself being led to a secret chamber deep beneath the monastery, guarded by powerful wards and runes. It was here that Thresh learned the truth of the Blessed Isles.

Thresh watched as one of his fellow pupils stood surrounded by figured in ominous robes, chanting an ominous spell in unison. Thresh’s teacher explained to him that this was ritual had been used by the order for ages to ensure that the Isles flourished. Evil was present in all humans, and so the only way to ensure it did not corrupt their paradise was to extract it from the soul, and seal it away. As the ritual drew to a close, Thresh saw the essence of all the other student’s hatred, envy, malice and warped desire ripped from his body, and placed into a special lantern made to contain it.

Thresh was intrigued. He approached the lantern without hesitation as the other boy was escorted from the chamber, and to his surprise, he heard voice whispering to him from within. The monks explained that though the evils of humanity could be removed, they could not be truly discarded. They needed to be contained, and more than that, they needed a warden to watch over them. Thresh volunteered in a heartbeat, and the monks smiled, pleased by their pupils’ devotion.

What they did not know, however, was that the whispers in Thresh’s mind had already begun taken root. From that day forward, Thresh vigilantly stood guard over the lantern, watching each successive cleansing as it took place. Each time, the wicked essence in the lantern grew stronger, as did the whispers in Thresh’s mind. He began to dream of enacting twisted torments upon the monks, the other disciples, and even his own parents. Slowly but surely, the brotherhood noticed a change in Thresh’s behavior. Fearing that he himself would be subjected to their cleansing rite, Thresh stole the lantern and fled the monastery.

The monks chased Thresh for days, but their search was brought to an abrupt end when strange ships arrived on the Blessed Isles: something Thresh thought impossible. From the safety of the cliffs, Thresh watched in delight as a soldiers led by a foreign king massacred his fellow monks. Their screams were music to the warden’s ears, and as the chaos spread, Thresh found himself reveling in the suffering of all who fell to the foreigners’ blades. Even at the cost of his own life, Thresh dared to move about the battlefield, searching for survivors left in the king’s wake only that he may snuff out the remnants of their lives himself.

Finally, as the screams of his victims began to subside, Thresh turned his attention to the heart of the Isles. From there, he saw a cloud of pure darkness rushing to meet him, and opened his arms wide to embrace it. In that moment, all the wickedness trapped within Thresh’s lantern was freed, bound to his soul through the power of the Ruination. Thresh emerged a being of pure maliciousness, and his lantern, now empty, would serve as the perfect vessel to enact his twisted fantasies.

Thresh now roams Runeterra as an avatar of sadism, bringing pain and misery to all unfortunate enough to cross his path. He stalks his victims and torments them by slowly stripping them of their sanity, before finally prying their souls from their bodies with his wicked sickle. If you hear the sound of chains in the dead of night, run… Though it may already be far too late.

So, what did you think? Now, it’s at this point I feel I need to clarify something: I’m not trying to bash on Riot’s creative team, nor am I saying that I can definitely make a better version of someone else’s character. Hell, I’m not even really saying that my version of the story is flawless; it would probably need to go through several more rewrites before I’d ever consider publishing it as canon, not that I have the power to do so, of course.

Rather, I wanted to take a closer look at Thresh’s character and how well his current lore represents him. I said earlier that Thresh is at once and interesting and a bland character. I consider him a little bland because you can sum him up in a single word: “sadistic.” He has no goals and no motivation other than to cause pain and suffering. Even the other undead of the Shadow Isles typically have some kind of agenda, even if it’s only to spread the Black Mist’s influence. Thresh doesn’t care about that; he just wants to see you writhe in agony, both before and after death. I’d argue he has more in common in with League’s demons than the other specters of the Isles, but it’s BECAUSE Thresh is undead that he has so much potential for an interesting backstory.

The main points I wanted to emphasize in my rewrite are: expanding on the magics that corrupted Thresh into being so sadistic, giving his lantern some greater significance in the story, and replacing the vault full of otherwise pointless macguffins with something a little more sinister that gives the Blessed Isles a hint of dichotomy. Riot loves adding a little morally grey to all their characters and factions, after-all.

Anyways, what do you all think? Could Thresh’s lore be improved, or do you all like his story the way in currently is? Lemme know down below, and I’ll see you all next time!

#Outofpower #League of Legends #Runeterra Retcons

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dcbbw · 4 years

Note

Would you ever write - Au Romance - Liam telling Riley the truth about his family ?

AHHHHHHHH, @mom2000aggie, I LOVE YOU! I have been missing my toxic, unhealthy babies and this ask is perfect for bits and pieces I had floating around in my head that didn’t fit into the series (which I plan to return to soon).

I know it was supposed to be a yes or no answer, but I’m feeling extra tonight.

This is a complete standalone set in my UnRomance AU and is NSFW—LIKE A LOT. AND BONDAGE.

There were pre-readers in part, but not calling anyone out. I know who you are, you know who you are. THANK YOU and I love you!

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: All Night, Marika Hackman: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZE3l9Ju9QA

“What do you want to do tonight, Riley?”

Liam’s face wears a slightly bored expression, but there is a smirk on his face and his eyes hold curiosity. We are in the bedroom; a standing lamp in a far corner of the room is lit, spilling yellowish light into the space. The blackout curtains are drawn tightly. Music plays in the background; I know the genre is British punk, but I don’t recognize the song.

He sits on the edge of the bed, tapping ash from his lit cigarette into the crystal ashtray that is placed beside him. The fingers of his free hand absently pull and pinch one of my nipples.

Liam is naked.

As am I.

I am lying on my back across the bed. My legs are widely spread, and my wrists are bound to my calves by heavy rope. My sex and my buttocks are displayed for Liam to do with as he pleases. Ten minutes ago, he had worked a butt plug into my asshole.

Now it is my turn to entertain us.

This is what we do on Friday nights. Date night.

My eyes stare up at the spotless ceiling as I think; after a few moments I answer him.

“I want to play Truth,” I say in a low but steady voice, turning my head to face him.

Silence as he drags on his cigarette. The tip glows orange as our eyes meet. His narrow slightly.

“Tell me the rules of this Truth you speak of.” Smoke exhales from his lips and nostrils.

I swallow heavily. I feel the burn of the rope against my skin, the weight of the plug in my most secret of holes. “We each ask a question. The other person must answer truthfully.”

He grinds what is left of the cigarette out into the ashtray. With a last look at me, he stands and leaves the room. I listen to his footsteps fade down the hall, and I feel disappointment. But he returns shortly with a tumbler of scotch, cream soda, and ice. He lifts his eyebrow when our gazes lock.

He sets the tumbler on the coaster that sits on the nightstand and climbs onto the bed. He gently pushes me up into a sitting position; I make a face as I feel the butt plug invade me further. Liam notices.

“Deep breaths,” he advises.

I know better than to ask him to remove it. Instead, I watch him leave the bed and retrieve the glass; he holds it to my lips, urging me to drink. I do. He takes a swallow, and then pushes me backwards on the bed. I tip over like a weeble-wobble toy.

“No more than three questions; the responder has two minutes max to answer. Not per question … two minutes, Riley.”

“Okay,” I say softly.

“I ask my question first. And we never speak of what we tell each other. The first person who does that has effectively called ‘stop’. On all of this.”

I nod in understanding. I look over when I feel the mattress shift with his weight. The ashtray is gone; I assume it is on the floor. He holds his phone before my face. He has the timer set for two minutes. Again, I nod, this time in agreement. With a smug smile, he asks his question.

“Tell me about your first time.” And he presses the start button.

I close my eyes. “I was 16; it was with a guy in my ROTC class. His name was Steve Young. His nickname was Cowboy.”

I hear the impatient sigh Liam exhales. He doesn’t want specifics about that. I resume my story quickly.

“We were in the gym, it was after basketball practice. We had made out before but had never gone all the way.”

“What were you wearing?” Liam interrupts.

I answer immediately because I remember the outfit vividly. “A white shirt with a Peter Pan collar, a red plaid skirt with the one of those oversized brass safety pins, and white knee socks.”

“Continue,” he commands in a raspy voice.

“We kissed a little, and he took my hand and put it on his crotch. He was hard.”

“Did you touch him the way I’m touching myself?”

I open my eyes and look over at Liam. His hand is fisted around his dick; I see the head leak pre-cum as his hand slowly slides and twists along his length.

“No,” I say with a tinge of regret. “I didn’t know how.”

“What do you remember most about it?”

“Thinking I peed myself when I had an orgasm.”

The timer beeps, and Liam’s hand releases his dick; it’s ramrod straight.

He resets the timer, again showing me. I bite my bottom lip while I try to think of my questions. He looks at me expectantly. “Well? This was your idea, Riley,” he reminds me.

“I know your mother is dead, but what of your father? And who is Leo?”

I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction. His jaw tightens and his eyes grow even darker if that’s possible, but he presses start on the phone before positioning himself between my legs. His hands cover my breasts, his fingers kneading and squeezing the fatty flesh. His dick drives into me as he speaks.

“My mother is dead because my father murdered her when I was 15. He’s in prison. I don’t visit him, but I do send him money.”

His eyes are fixed on mine as he thrusts between his words. His rhythm is almost a staccato, his dick pushing and grinding against my walls. I feel my eyes widen at his words; they grow bigger when I see the look of rage cross his face.

“DON’T!” he yells angrily. “I don’t need your sympathy and I DON’T WANT your pity!”

His eyes are clouded, but I see the slight break in them. His gaze drops from mine as he focuses on his length slipping in and out of me. His hair flops against his forehead, and his breathing grows heavy. Finally he lifts his head so our eyes meet again.

“Leo is my half-brother. His mother abandoned him. When my mother died, he ran away. I give him money to feed his demons.”

He goes back to watching himself fuck me. My heart is breaking for him even as my center prepares to come for him. My eyes glance at the timer. I have 14 seconds left.

“I have one more question left.”

His eyes meet mine briefly. “No. You don’t.”

“Do you love me?” I whisper desperately.

His dick is punishing me now; the burns from the rope are beginning to sting. His hands grab my breasts tightly, his nails digging into my skin. I feel his seed spill into me as the timer goes off.

“Time’s up,” he says as he spurts the last of his orgasm into me.

Still sitting inside of me, he gently removes the butt plug, tossing it onto the floor. He pulls out of my sex and releases me from my bonds. I see angry red marks on my wrists; I feel them on my calves. Liam gives me a scornful look before rising from the bed.

I watch him as he grabs his glass of scotch and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He does not return that night.

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @ritachacha @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @cordonianroyalty @bbrandy2002 @janezillow

#ns*w #tw bondage #dcbbw answers #would you ever ask #unromance au #this ain’t Cordonia

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salvatcrechilda · 5 years

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#✧ ′ when i discover who i am–– i'll be free ⦗ the vampire diaries ⦙ season seven ⦘#✧ ′ better to die fighting then be a prisoner all the days of your life ⦗ the vampire diaries ⦙ season six ⦘#✧ ′ the truth will set you free ⦗ pre prison world ⦘#✧ ′ these are the streets of glory ⦗ the originals ⦘#✧ ′ time may fade but i never will ⦗ heretic verse ⦘#✧ ′ we are extraordinary people that want to be ordinary ⦗ mcu/dceu ⦘#✧ ′ your life can change overnight or in a moment ⦗ ahs ⦙ coven ⦘#✧ ′ the end is near but that doesn't mean we have to be ⦗ ahs ⦙ apocalypse ⦘#✧ ′ these violent delights have violent ends ⦗ htgawm ⦘#✧ ′ children from the sky ⦗ the 100 ⦘#✧ ′ so you're saying we both can coexist ⦗ crossover ⦘#✧ ′ i don't know where to begin ⦗ verse tbd ⦘#✧ ′ there's no such thing as magic ⦗ caos ⦙ season one ⦘#✧ ′ this town should be called the town of death ⦗ riverdale ⦙ season three ⦘#✧ ′ welcome to the town of pep ⦗ riverdale ⦙ season one & two ⦘#✧ ′ this is a new life that i won't waste ⦗ legacies ⦙ season one ⦘#verses #✧ ′ we don't all take the same path our parents took ⦗ descendants ⦘#✧ ′ we need to move on and list all the reasons why we should do so ⦗ 13 reasons why ⦙ season three ⦘#✧ ′ magic runs in my blood ⦗ harry potter series ⦘#✧ ′ fear will always be in the back of my head ⦗ it series ⦘

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laur-rants · 4 years

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Fic Update: Blood Wolf

Chapter 5

Fandom: Dishonored Ship: Daud and the Whalers, some Daud/Outsider on the side

Rated: Mature to Explicit, Strong Violence and Gore Ahead!!

Synopsis: Werewolf!AU :: Daud-Centric Prequel to Wolfbann. Origin Story, pre-canon. Centers on how Daud turned, and his subsequent marking by the Outsider and his formulation of the Whalers.

Notes: Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Daud goes back to where it began, spurred to action by the Outsider’s words.

AO3 link

Previous :: First :: Next

____________________________________

Dunwall

Month of Songs, 1820

He was running. He was running, throwing his surging body forward, every step pounding into the ground with the force of a full stampede. The scent of blood, of fear, was heavy in his nose; it drove his senses to a pinpoint, beckoning him onward. Weariness fled from him as his skin was shed, scars blazing and teeth shining with a manic light. He breathed and his body breathed with him, contracting and expanding, growing with every filled lung. He gulped air like a whale before the plunge; muscles rippled, launching, claws ready to rend, to tear, to savor.

He was a killer; he was born for this. His prey was fully unaware; fur flew and bone crushed and his jaws longed for the warmth of blood, the tender tear of flesh rending between his teeth. A limb was shorn from its body easily and his long nose plunged into the cavity left behind, rooting for soft, vulnerable organs. He closed his eyes and worshiped the entrails he found within. He was drunk on it, drowning in the life-giving red water, offering reverence to both god and devoured flesh. Somewhere far away, a whale keened; he bellowed his own song, body rippling with the sound as it morphed into a roar, then a scream. His voice dripped with Void but still the whales cried and burned; he could feel their dying songs reverberating in his ears, his whole body resonating with the call.

------

Daud lurched forward, gasping for air, returning to the surface of his dreams. His body was slick with sweat and smoke and his nose burned with the smell of burning oil. Whalesong mixed in his ears with another unearthly sound, a keening note that he realized, belatedly, was a sundering howl ripped from his own throat. He fell from the bed, all too aware of his teeth clashing, his claws ripping, his body shaking from an exertion he didn't know it was experiencing until now.

He tried to still his panicking mind but his body spasmed of its own accord, as if trying desperately to break free of it's human-shaped prison. He fought for lucidity against the instinctive desire to shift into something else. He bit down on his tongue, rolling it through too-long teeth, and clenched his left hand so painfully it bled. He tasted iron on his lips and gasped out, trying not to fall apart at the literal seams.

Human, human, you're still human , he reminded himself, trying desperately to convince whatever shift was happening to reverse itself. A dark part of his mind snarled back, telling him he was only lying to himself, that humanity was now beyond him--but he snuffed it out, shaking his head as the world swam with void and smoke. He clenched his fist even tighter; he snarled and his scars smoldered like they would sear his face right off, but he finally got his body to settle. Claws melted away, fur and ears and snout left on a non-existent breeze. His chest exhaled; with it, the beast succumbed, returning to rest in the coil of his ribcage. His limbs shook, his body was slick with sweat. He wanted to be sick.

When he pounded his fist into the flooring, the wood creaked, splinters biting into his skin.

A week. He'd had this Mark for a bloody week and still, everyday was a fight. A fight against a body that didn't want to be confined to skin, with claws that itched to grow, with teeth that begged to be bared. The Mark on his hand and the whispers of the Void that were supposed to help him maintain this mess seemed only to encourage the beast of him. His dreams were vivid bloodbaths coaxing the monster to burst from his skin. The Outsider had wondered how long Daud could control the beast; Daud wondered if he even had control to begin with.

His hand seized and he shook it, flexed it, then concentrated. His breathing returned to normal, his shivering stopped. He willed those claws to grow long and deadly before whispering them away again. He watched as the inky black fur broke apart and turned to ash, as if the fur wasn't made of hair, but actual voidstone, muttering secrets even as it dissipated away. Daud frowned, sat back on his legs, and closed his eyes.

This time, he felt for the Void. He searched for it with purpose, his hand the part of him that was allowed to plunge across the barrier. The chill was bone deep, the pain of it followed by a tingling pressure that begged him to stop-- but he found it. The tendril of magic he was searching for. He tugged on it like a spider testing its web, following the vibrations towards its intended goal.

Daud kept his eyes closed until he felt the cold burn up his arm, filling him with magic. When he opened his eyes, the world's colors were muted but her secrets lay bare; people far below him either still slept or paced paths around their beds. Scent trails wafted in front of him, the smells of whales, of oil, of burnt skin traveling through his apartment. When he blinked again his normal color vision returned, the murmur in his ear fled from him, and his mark faded from a bright screaming white back down to a faded black.

He drew breath and heavy air filled his lungs; a cold hand materialized on his scarred cheek and he stilled, blinking, until a smirking figure appeared before him fully. He swallowed, still very aware of his position on the floor, and lifted his gaze to meet endless black.

"My, learning something new today?" the Outsider asked calmly, stroking a thumb across Daud's cheek. The sensation of the touch across his scars sent a shivering jolt all the way down to his feet and he gasped at the sensation. He tried to regain composure, tried to scowl at the god.

"It's not like I've been given many instructions," Daud complained. "So I've had to learn to take what I can get when I find it."

"You have been quite busy seeking out my shrines," the Outsider noted. "But they are easier to listen for than to see. This new power will help you hear their songs. Once your ears hear it, you will know. And you will be drawn to them."

Thin fingers moved from his face to his hair, carding through the loose black strands and Daud's eyes slid closed, his body entranced under the touch. It was soothing and suffocating; he let himself be set adrift, the current pulling him where it wished. The Outsider smiled.

"A mother from Pandyssia, and the bastard father she murdered on her way to Serkonos. She was called a witch, people thought she worshipped me. But she didn't; you knew it was all slander. You didn't even believe I really existed." He drew his hand away and Daud whined, unbidden. Free of the trance, he stood up; the Outsider floated above the flooring, his shadow immeasurable.

"Why believe in a god that didn't pay attention to us, or the suffering of others? It was pointless."

"And yet, here I am. In truth, I'm glad you weren't devout. Would have made it so much less interesting to approach you." The Outsider turned away, though Daud felt as if his hungry dead eyes were still watching his every move.

"Tell me, Daud, did you ever hear the fables of whale-wolves in your youth?"

Daud blinked. "My mother mentioned them under a different name. Wolfbanner, those cursed as wolves. It was fanciful, like anything from Pandyssia. I didn't pay it much mind as I aged, when I had other things to worry about."

"Like murdering your abusive captors," the Outsider supplied. He turned back to Daud, studying him. "Not your first kill, and not your last." He disappeared, reappearing at Daud's side, facing the opposite direction. A hand hovered over Daud's arm, the sensation of promised contact prickling against his skin.

"You are by far the most bloodthirsty of my Marked, the first in a long time."

There was a sadness there, but also an interest, a hunger. Daud leaned away a little, trying to meet the Outsider's eye.

"How many have you Marked?"

"There are a few in every age. You are one of six, all scattered in the Isles. The last time I marked someone, you were still a babe in Serkonos. The last time one of my Marked died, it was here, under this very city, just over a year ago." His face fell serious, a terrible gaze that chilled Daud to the bone.

"The one Fink found," Daud surmised, and the Outsider's form flickered dangerously. He chose to dissipate, forming again to sit on Daud's bed, a foot resting over the opposite knee.

"My whale-wolves are not the playthings of men. They are individuals who make their own lives, their own paths, their own choices. According to legend, the original were whales that left the water to walk on land; they possessed humans, and their form changed to suit their bodies and their environment. It was not so easy on the humans; they eventually lost their minds to the whale's overwhelming presence, ravaging their villages and infecting their others, and were ultimately killed." The Outsider looked away, his gaze far off.

"But that was thousands of years ago, when whales were more powerful. My Mark gives humans a fighting chance, but it also changes them forever. You are now more than you ever were before, Daud."

"I was quite fine being human, you know," Daud snarled. "I didn't want to become some furred whale that walks on land." The Outsider gave him a sad look.

"Unfortunately, few get to choose this path. Those who have the option of choice are rarer and more powerful than you could ever imagine. You could have been one but…" the Outsider flicked over to him again, his hands and eyes fixated on the scars marring his face. Daud inhaled sharply, not expecting the touch.

"But you were attacked before that choice could be offered to you. I'm sorry. So please, do not take what I've given you to waste."

The god's voice was barely a whisper, but so loud within his ears, like rushing water. He turned toward the Outsider, unbidden. That slender face smiled.

"What would you see me do, then?" He asked, eyes dark and entranced again.

"Return to where you started," the Outsider offered. "And keep your friends close. You will need them, soon."

And then, just like that, Daud was alone again. He shivered, his body alight in a very different sense, limbs tingling with phantom pain. He breathed, trying to ease his mind, but it was no use. He settled instead for a cold shower but all it did was remind him of those icy hands, the rush of water in the Void, and the whales that kept crying from their death row in the slaughterhouses.

------

Rulfio was early to his meeting with Daud by approximately ten minutes and 45 seconds.

Apparently, so was Daud.

This wasn't completely unlike the other assassin, if Rulfio was being honest. What was unlike Daud, however, was his vulnerable position-- sitting against the chimney, his arms resting on his knees, his mouth nervously rolling a new cig. Daud didn't even look at Rulfio as he cleared the roof, swinging his legs over the edge before straightening up.

There was no mask, this time. A welcome return to normalcy -- until, of course, Daud turned his head towards Rulfio. Without thinking, Rulfio's eyes shot over to Daud's scars and he stilled. His beard pulled into a frown and he crossed his arms; Daud sighed. The younger assassin didn't stand up, just kept sitting there, too open and languid.

"Do I even want to know the trouble you've been into since the last time I saw you?" The words were rough but held no venom; Daud responded by looking down and away, the shadow of a smile twitching on his lips as he pulled at his cigarette. The smoke billowed up as he breathed out.

"Maybe not. If I had the option of not knowing, I would take it, to be honest."

There was something ruined there in those words that gave Rulfio a pause. He unfolded his arms, instead opting to set his hands into pockets.

"Well, did you get it done, then? It's been near two weeks."

Daud nodded. He then dug into the bandolier at his chest and pulled out a small pouch. He tossed it to Rulfio, who caught it easily. He noted the red velvet of the purse's fabric, opened it to gold coins, and laughed.

"Steal everything but the bathtub?"

"I burned the house. The whole family is dead. Except, well…"

Rulfio tossed the bag up, catching it easily as it fell. "Well?"

Daud sighed. He shot Rulfio a look. "There was a kid."

Of course there was. "And where's the kid now?"

"In the hands of a physician. She was hurt, but she'll live."

"Have you been stalking her?"

Daud's expression went deadly sharp. Rulfio blinked; a dark emotion hung in those edges that he had never seen on Daud's face before. But then it passed and Daud just grimaced, puffing on the cigarette in his mouth.

"I've been trying not to. I don't need to interfere with a kid who's life I ruined."

"And yet you pulled her from a burning building after killing her parents."

"I wasn't gonna let her die, Rulf."

Fair enough. He tossed the coin purse again, finding the clinking pleasant in his ear. "Did that physician fix your face up too?"

"No, that was…" his hand clenched, as if his wrist hurt. "It healed on its own."

Rulfio knew a lie when he heard one. He laughed, waving at a bug hovering too near his ear. "Daud you're a better liar than that. If you have a secret, you can just keep it, you know." Interestingly, Daud's jaw worked; the fly in his ear grew more insistent. Rulfio wasn't the twitchy type --having a steady hand and low jumpiness made him great at his job-- but when he swatted and nothing flew from his hand, he turned his head, looking around. The air was empty, but the sensation tickling at his nerves remained. He scowled, and then caught Daud watching him curiously.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Dunno," Rulfio confessed. "Thought it was a fly, or a mosquito. But there's nothing there."

Immediately the twinge on his nerves receded, but Daud remained far too impassive. Rulfio squinted at him, folding his arms in again.

It took a few ticks, but Daud finally twitched, his fingers moving back to his cigarette.

"What did you do?" Rulfio asked, like he was talking to a petulant child. Daud exhaled, the sound roughened with smoke.

"I need your help," he said, skirting the question. "It's not a contract, it's a… personal favor." His head tilted, his eyes softened. "I don't really have anyone else I can ask to come with me on this one."

Rulfio considered. If you asked him, he wasn't the superstitious type, but something wasn't right. Daud was acting strange. Void, how long did Rulfio think him dead? Long enough to come to terms with the fact that his partner was well and truly gone. Then he just reappeared, with that haunting face and those seeping, infected wounds, and things changed. To be honest, Rulfio isn't even sure if Daud was still real, or some phantom sent to haunt him.

"Sure, I'll help you out, Daud. I've owed you for a while, anyway." He settled down on the roof next to the scarred man, nudging his boot amicably. "What do you need to see to?"

Daud sighed, weary. He ran a hand over his hair.

"It's the Hound Pits. I have to go back there, look around. Something doesn't add up, like I missed something the first time around. I don't want to get my information crossed, but some of the papers I found in Fink's place allude to... unpleasant practices. " Daud pulled the papers he recovered and easily handed them to Rulfio. He took the proffered articles, smoothing his beard as he read. That insistence itched at the back of his skull, ringing like tinnitus.

Eyebrows up, Rulfio simply said aloud "do you mind?" while his eyes skimmed over the words, and was mildly surprised when the sensation obliged, backing off. The ache it left behind was dull, and Ruflio gave Daud a very pointed look.

Daud, to his credit, tried to remain neutral. Rulfio sniffed. Daud blinked innocently.

"Are you using some kind of magic on me, Daud?"

"Don't start with me, Rulf."

"Look I know you said your mom was from Pandyssia but--"

"Just read the damn articles," Daud growled out, "and maybe then I'll tell you."

Rulfio went back to the papers, smirking, but the smile fled as something dark settled into his chest. He read it, then read it again. He swallowed heavily and when he handed the papers back, he found his steady hand shaking.

"Jerome," he managed, "it says he changed? And that they were looking for assassins to…" he cast a nervous glance at Daud, who was watching him very carefully. Rulfio's gaze flicked to those gastly scars, the lines dragging over his face and across his jugular, and he could feel the sweat beading on his own forehead.

"What the fuck happened under the Hound Pits, Daud?"

Daud didn't blink, his expression dark.

"It's easier to show than tell on this one, Rulf."

------

The trip to the Hound Pits Pub took longer than Daud wanted it to. After a week, he was used to these powers taking him farther and faster than his own legs could, to the point where walking was an overt annoyance. However, he couldn't trust to show his powers to Rulfio, not yet, not until his fellow assassin fully understood why. So, by simple flesh and steel they both traversed the rooftops, knowing the routes through Dunwall better than anyone. Blessedly, Rulfio asked no questions on the way, letting Daud take the lead and direct Rulfio where they needed to go.

As they neared the establishment they settled down, carefully perching on a nearby apartment roof and simply observing. It was late afternoon, which meant the pub was getting ready for dinner and a long night of pleasantries. Someone in an upstairs apartment aired out some dirty laundry, getting spooked when she caught them lounging out of the corner of her eye. Daud grimaced, motioning to Rulfio; they hopped down after that, mingling with the streetside crowd.

"Go on inside," Daud suggested, as they eyeballed the front door of the Pub. "See if you can't distract the staff for a while. I'm going to scout around for where we need to go."

"And how will I know you're ready for me?"

Daud worried his cheek and resisted the urge to push his thoughts towards Rulfio. It was an addictive side effect, one he didn't totally understand or have control over, but he knew Rulfio's mind now, had a bead on it, and it would be so easy to…

"I'll come in and grab a drink myself," he supplied, pushing down the ache to reconnect to Rulfio's mind. "I'll grab a whiskey if I'm ready to go, a wine if not. How does that sound?"

Rulfio nodded, good with the plan, and Daud relaxed. He nodded, then eased back against the wall, pulling out a cigarette to light. He lounged casually, wearing a loose shirt over his bandolier to conceal the majority of his weapons and equipment. He waited until Rulfio disappeared, nursing his cigarette between his lips.

Then, he pulled the spent butt from his mouth, flicked it to the floor, and disappeared.

He transversed through the Void, his body leaping to a new location, again and again, effortlessly. He had been practicing with the power, honing the feel of it over the last week, his confidence growing with each successful jump. He allowed the power to flow through him now, breathing in the ash it left behind, feeling his chest swell with unspoken exhalation. He circled the Pub, gathered a loose key from an upper room, and disappeared briefly into the sewers connected to the establishment.

There, he let himself take a breath. His hand itched with long claws, his black gloves melting into oily fur. Daud looked around and sniffed; the sewers still stank, but not of death. Perhaps the rats or the hagfish got to last month's massacre, tearing apart any remains. He carefully traversed the tunnels, found the door he had used when he was first here, and unlocked it with the stolen key.

Then, as silently as a spectre, he slipped into the main body of the Hound Pits Pub.

The place was bustling, the smell and sounds of the brewery and its customers hitting him full force. He staggered for a moment, nose curling, before making his way to the broad chested Tyvian. He knocked on the counter and Rulfio glanced at him, but said nothing else.

"Can I get a whiskey?" Daud asked gruffly. "Dunwall's finest." The barkeep nodded, sauntering off to get the drink. Next to him, Rulfio shifted.

"There is a door to the sewers in the--" he whispered, but just then, the rabble rose up, drowning his words. He glanced at Rulfio, who shook his head. Of course, he hadn't heard him.

Daud huffed. And, without thinking, he shut his mouth tight and reached his mind out to Rulfio's.

"Adjacent brewery has a door to the sewers in the back. It's unlocked. No guards. I'll meet you there."

Daud could feel Rulfio's mind flickering through confusion, realization, shock, and-- the emotions flashed by so fast Daud's head felt heavy but he drummed on the counter and cleared his throat. As the barkeep brought his drink and he dropped his pay, he chanced a glance at Rulfio.

His partner's face was a wall. He was looking at Daud, his eyes unblinking, and Daud could sense the disbelief. He frowned; he needed to get Rulfio moving, damnit.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Daud growled, lifting a dangerous lip. Across the weak connection he felt confusion, then understanding. Rulfio cleared his throat, then shook his head.

"No sir, just thought I recognized you from somewhere."

"With these scars? I doubt it. Now back off."

Rulfio nodded and behind them, someone laughed. Daud turned away and nursed the whiskey; when he looked back, Rulfio was gone.

He dropped a tip, downed the rest of his glass, then exited the way he entered.

When Daud next met up with his fellow assassin in the sewers, Rulfio was livid. He grabbed Daud by his too-loose shirt, shaking him roughly, and snarled in Daud's face.

"What black magic was that? Where is the bone charm? Who gave it to you? Damn it all, Daud!"

Daud let himself be handled before carefully prying Rulfio's fingers off his shirt. He then pulled the shirt off, storing it near the door, and then checked his equipment and adjusted his hood.

"It's not a bone charm, Rulfio," Daud said, hating how strained his voice sounded. It was easier to count his bolts and darts than look at the dark, angry eyes of his partner in crime. "It's just how I am now, Rulf."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" There was the sound of a blade unsheathing, and Daud started, not expecting the weapon now pointed on him. Not Rulfio. His stomach dropped with the realization that somewhere along the way, he'd made a deadly mistake. He whirled towards his partner, putting his hands up.

"Rulfio, wait--"

The tip of Rulfio's dao blade pressed into his stomach, silencing him. Daud's mouth snapped shut and he shook his head, unmoving.

"What were you doing in my head then? Are you like Jerome? In the note, how it said he could invade thoughts… is that what you're like now? Are you even Daud anymore?"

Daud licked his lips. He chose his words carefully; he really didn't think Rulfio wanted to see what would happen if he tried to spill his guts here and now. Daud didn't really want to see what would happen, either.

"Rulfio, I swear to you, I have not been body snatched, I'm not some weird animated corpse. I just need you to trust me--"

"Trust you, when you were coming in my head and talking to me? I didn't give you permission for that, Daud!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," he whispered lowly, his voice echoing against the water and the walls. Rulfio had no response to that, but the blade didn't move. Carefully Daud moved to take off his left glove. "I just want to show you, so that you don't make a terrible mistake, right here, right now."

"And why's that? You some witch now?" The sword pushed into his stomach.

"No, Rulfio-- fuck! I'm a Wolfbanner, I'm a cursed fucking whale-wolf!"

The silence at the declaration hung heavy between them. Rulfio then laughed, singular, in disbelief.

"Yeah, right. Those are just old wive's tales, Daud. There's…" but he trailed off, the look on Daud's face stony. Rulfio's eyes flicked to the scars. His hand shook.

"Let me show you, Rulfio." He tugged at his glove. Rulfio shook his head, but didn't take his eyes off the motion. "Just please, don't gut me, that's all I ask."

The glove slid off. The Outsider's Mark gleamed. In a swarm of ash, black claws grew.

The sword clattered loudly to the floor.

Daud's jaw clenched tight, working as Rulfio stared, fascinated at the action. Worry crept in, and Daud took a step back for distance.

"I didn't want this, Rulf, but I'm not lying, and by some god-given power, I haven't gone completely insane. I didn't think--I'm not here to-- I thought I could trust you with this because I hate lying to you, Rulf."

"And the mind tricks? What is that?"

"I…" Daud clammed up, and had the audacity to feel ashamed. "I don't know. I just realized that I could reach out to someone else's head, read their emotions, talk to them. I'm still learning this shit and I'm sorry, Rulfio. You couldn't hear me and I just acted without--"

The thwip was near silent. Daud didn't catch it soon enough; the punch in his leg caused him to buckle and grunt. He looked down; the bolt stuck from his thigh at an odd angle, but the blood poured from it all the same. He groaned again as the pain burned down his leg and up his spine.

"Rulfio, what the fuck--"

But it wasn't Rulfio. Daud's second stood, watching agape as a second bolt hit his right arm, in the bicep. Daud growled in annoyance, the sound guttural in his ears. He could feel his teeth growing heavy and he gnashed them together as he pulled the first bolt out of his leg with his free hand.

"Rulfio," Daud rasped, feeling his mark burning and begging to be used. He dodged; another bolt whizzed past his head. "I swear, if you're in on this--" He didn't mean to sound so rough and angry but someone was shooting at him and he'd been too distracted to notice. But Rulfio just shook his head, his face pale. He reached for his sword but another bolt nearly struck his hand and he pulled back, cursing.

It was enough to make Daud's blood boil over. His fist clenched; with a snarl he was rushing forward, ignoring the pain in his limbs. There was an exclamation, but he was already too far to make out the words. Ugly claws sprouted as the world greyed; a body to his left lit up and he sneered, teeth sharp. The individual was slim, hooded; they realized how close Daud suddenly was and they stumbled back, surprised. Or perhaps, terrified.

It didn't matter. Daud's fist clenched and he pounced; another bolt whizzed past him, the shot going wide as Daud collided with his assailant. He pulled his blade out immediately, pulling it to the throat of--

Daud cursed and the person under him shuddered from where his hand lay clasped around her throat. Because now he knew it was a she; the long brown hair tied back in her hood and those sharp blue eyes were sign enough. He sighed out a growl, keeping his blade on her neck.

"Jordan. You better have a good explanation for this." He heard a yelp from Rulfio in the distance, the call of his name. Jordan sneered and Daud was suddenly very aware of the steady drip of blood from the bolt still in his arm.

"Daud, what the shit was all that-- Jordan?!" Rulfio finally moved over to them, wet from the sewers, and he looked at her, equally baffled. He looked at Daud, then Jordan, and his face went severe. "Oh, you didn't… Seriously , Jordan?" He sounded like he was chiding a child which, to be honest, wouldn't be far off the mark. Jordan was even younger than Daud, fresh into her second decade, and sometimes her recklessness preceded her.

Jordan, for her part, at least knew better than to struggle against Daud's grip. Her eyes darted to Rulfio, then back to Daud; she put her hands up, swearing.

"Okay, okay, shit, you caught me. Now let me up you assholes."

"Not until you explain what you were thinking, shooting me in the fucking sewer," Daud growled out, his teeth grinding together in anger.

"There's… there's a hit on you, Daud."

It was Rulfio who responded. He sounded defeated, almost ashamed. Daud swore, nearly dropping his blade as he turned to Rulfio, livid.

"There's a hit on me and you didn't tell me? Since when?"

"It's that prick, Brimsley," Jordan supplied. "Said he was threatened by you, that you killed someone else and he wanted you gone. It's good pay, you know," she twitched, her eyes darting between the other two assassins. "15,000 coin, Daud. I thought it'd be easy enough, but he didn't say you were a heretic too."

"I'm not a heret--" he cut his own words off with a groan, finally pushing Jordan away in anger. His claws left no marks, for which he was grateful. She rubbed at her neck anyway, trying to ease the pain away, checking for blood. "Whatever. Fuck Brimsley. I'll kill him myself and collect my own bounty." With an annoyed grunt, he pulled the bolt from his arm, letting it clatter to the floor, unphased by the blood weeping from the wound.

"Does that even hurt?" Jordan asked, stupefied.

"Like a bloodfly sting," he responded. Jordan blanched.

"Yeah okay, fuck Brimsley, you're a scary man, Daud. 15,000 isn't even close enough to be worth it. 20,000 maybe. But Outsider's ass, you really ate two bolts like it was nothing."

"Yeah, well, at least you didn't try to kill me," he said, and his mind remembered that grey wolf's-- Jerome, his name was Jerome, he reminded himself, sickened--split neck, stitching itself back together. "There's a good chance it wouldn't have worked."

"I wager not," she said, her wide, nervous eyes trailing the scars on his face. "So what, you a fuckin' witch now? Give your soul to the Void so you can't ever die?"

"He's a whale-wolf now, Jordan." Rulfio said gruffly. Daud spared him a glance; Rulfio was watching him carefully, but there was no skepticism in his gaze. Daud savored the small amount of vindication that brought him, before turning towards Jordan's laughter.

"Yeah, right. Those are just fiction, Rulf. I know you love your conspiracy theories, but seriously? A whale-wolf? I'm supposed to just believe that?"

Rulfio flushed, the grip on his blade tightening with the creak of leather. "Did you not see what Daud just did? He disappeared and then reappeared like it was nothing. He's even Marked--or tattoo'd, depending on how you see it."

"Don't need to be a giant beast to use magic, Rulfio."

"Oh? You think those witches you see at night aren't also beasts too? You think Granny Rags isn't more than just an old crone?"

"You ever see Granny look like a giant monster? No? I didn't think so! But she still brews those concoctions and talks to rats and leaves carved bones lying about!"

"Just because you ain't seen it doesn't mean it's not true," Rulfio defended.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you," Daud finally snarled, his whole body bristling. Jordan and Rulfio both stilled, acquiesced, though Jordan's eyes still darted skeptically between them. "Rulfio isn't wrong, Jordan… I got attacked. In these very sewers, even. It's not something I really enjoy, but--

"Show me, then," Jordan bit out, stubbornness taking over as she steadied her crossbow at Daud, "or I'll turn you over to the Overseers. I bet they'll give me more coin for a marked heretic than Brimsley will for your head."

Daud sighed, aggravated. "You can't be serious."

"And if I am?" She tilted her head. "What, you suddenly shy or something, Daud?"

He snarled, the sound rumbling out from deep in his chest. Jordan faltered and Rulfio stepped back; around them, the air grew heavy. He stuck out his left hand; still gloveless, he clenched it and it burned, the smoke and ash giving away to fur and muscle. Jordan's eyes went wide and she lowered the crossbow as Daud's scars glowed hot, the smoke revealing fur and ears. His teeth clashed together as they lengthened in his jaws and became something other than human. Rulfio cursed, Jordan held a silent scream. His bones cracked unpleasantly but he willed the rest of his body to stay put, despite the heaving of his chest and creeping fur down his back. He felt his wounds steam away, the flesh knitting back together with his partial transformation.

Jordan gaped like a fish. Clearly, neither of them had expected -- this . Daud could hardly blame them. He sneered, his lip curling up, hating the looks on their faces. He let go of his magic; immediately, the fur dissipated, melting away like fog over water.

Nobody said anything. Daud could feel the anger rising in his chest and his left hand itched.

"Any other stupid questions?" He rasped out, his voice ruined after the transformation. Jordan just shook her head, the crossbow falling from her hands.

She ran.

Daud caught her before she took more than two steps. Rulfio's hand flew to his blade, anticipating a fight.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"I'm not sticking around so you can kill me like that!"

"Daud frowned. "I'm not going to kill you." His mouth twisted up into a nasty smile. "Unless you're off to snitch, that is. Then I might reconsider."

"Like anyone would believe me anyway!" She shrieked, her voice cracking up an octave. Then, she relaxed, though the sweat on her brow lingered. "What are you going to do with me then?"

Daud blinked, then looked at Rulfio, who shrugged.

"I think you'll just have to come along for the ride, now," he sneered, putting his blade back on his hip. "You followed us down here, after all. Aren't you curious as to why we're here under a dirty old dog fighting pub?"

Jordan looked skeptical, but Daud knew her curiosity would win out in the end. Her fingers twitched, and she licked her lips.

"It got to do with that hit you took for Brimsley?"

"The very one that fucked me up and almost killed me? Yes."

"Fine. Just don't kill me and leave me a mummy for someone to find in 200 years, alright? I got a lotta living still to do."

"We aren't going to kill you, girl," Rulfio sighed out, exasperated. That seemed to convince her; she wiggled out of Daud's limp grip and wiped herself off.

"Alright then. Where to, wolfman?"

Daud sighed and rolled his eyes; he was already regretting the decision to bring anyone along. But the Outsider had told him to keep his friends close, and maybe this was why.

"Give me a moment," he muttered, then waved his left hand again, burning through more magic. The Void laid bare the secrets of the world and in his ears, a faint ringing began. He frowned; the sound was like a tuning fork, resonating in his chest and limbs. It tugged him down, deeper under the tunnels, to where the dog fighting amphitheatre was. As his vision returned to normal, he started moving, motioning to the others.

"It's this way. Come on."

#dishonored #daud #the outsider #whalers #werewolf au #wolfssegner #blood wolf #long post #rulfio #jordan #fic #my fic #fanfic #my fanfic #not much rambling in the tags on this one #just struggled with this one a bit #a lot of dialog to juggle #both myself and daud are exhausted by jordan

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enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Raised Jewish

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2709 words, rated M for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

Bucky's therapy session with Dr Raynor takes a turn for the worse when Raynor starts asking him about his identity.

TW: queer used as a slur, mention of Bucky's 1945 "death", Raynor being the worst therapist

Read on AO3

Part 5 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

Dr Raynor isn’t nice.

She’s not kind, or sweet. She doesn’t speak the way Sam does when he’s trying to figure out if Bucky’s okay. She’s harsher, more commanding. She seems more used to orders than to niceties, and so is he.

Yet, he can’t stand it.

He can’t stand her. He can’t stand the way she looks at him, with her notebook and her pencil clicking. He can’t stand her questions, and the fact she knows everything he’s talking about. She has access to all his files, the Hydra ones, the Army ones, everything. She knows everything about him.

Why is she asking all these questions? Why is she even pretending to give a fuck? She’s here for a paycheck, and he’s here because he has to be. He suffers through this shit because he doesn’t want to go back to prison.

He spent one month in the Raft after Stark’s funeral. They put him in custody the day after Steve left, and he was there until his trial. It was hell. Claustrophobic and silent and… he has to breathe in deeply whenever he thinks about the absolute despair of that month.

The whole prison smelled like seawater and cleaning products, there was a heavy, unmistakably nefarious bracelet around his left wrist, and the cell was too small. Way too small.

Bucky closes his eyes and inhales deeply, trying to chase the phantom of the Raft’s smell from his nostrils. He gets drying flowers and washed out perfume instead, coming from the vase on the table by Dr Raynor’s chair and from the woman herself. It’s not unpleasant, as far as smells go.

He’s stopped paying attention for a moment, and when his eyes refocus, she’s staring at him with that pinched look that says she’s expecting him to explain what he was thinking about, what pulled him from the session and made him lose focus. She hates when he’s not focused.

He sets his jaw and shifts his fingers in his gloves, hearing leather creak over his left knuckles, and stares right back at her, silent. He doesn’t like talking to her about the things in his head. He’s fought for them too long and too hard to give them to the first person he’s told to give them to.

She’s the closest to a handler he’s had since Colonel Helmut Zemo in Berlin. Or, as he introduced himself back then, Doctor Theo Broussard. What is it with Bucky and shrinks?

“I see our usual conversation isn’t enough to keep your attention, James,” she says. It feels like a reprimand. She says ‘James’ the way handlers said ‘Soldier’. Like it’s a threat.

He stays stubbornly silent. He’s always been the stubborn kind. Hard to get through, hard to break. Much stronger people than Dr Christina Raynor have attempted to break their way into his mind. They had to torture him to do so.

“Let’s change subjects then,” she nods, and pulls her notebook out. Bucky wants to scream. It’s not red, but it feels red.

“I think it’s time we dive deeper into your identity.”

Alarm bells go off in his mind and he freezes. Your identity . What is she referring to? What does she know? There are things that Bucky prays aren’t in the files. Things he never wants anyone to ever find out, especially her. Old instinctual fears of teenagehood suddenly rise and the leather creaks harder, the sound mixing with the wiring noises of the arm. It’s a quiet threat wrapped in a sound, like a wolf’s warning growl.

“Please remember to control yourself, James.”

She’s so very good at reminding him he’s only free because she wants him to be. The second he shows any sort of aggression, he’ll be put back in that tiny cell, with that bracelet and won’t see the sun for the rest of his overly long life. He knows it. He can feel it.

His obedience is part of the deal he made with the government. He has to comply with their demands. And that includes humoring Dr Raynor.

“What do you want to dive into?” He asks, letting his irritation obviously show. She can’t take that from him. He will comply, but fuck them if they believe he’ll do it without attitude.

If she starts asking about his relationships and Steve, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He can’t escape. He’s trapped in this room, with this woman, until she decides that their session is over. This is the price of his freedom.

He can’t tell her, or anyone, about Steve. He can’t do that to him, to his name, to his legacy. He just can’t stain him this way. It’s the kind of secret that has to die with him. Captain America can’t be a queer.

He forces himself to stay still, to not let nervous motions betray his emotional state, and he just waits to see what Dr Raynor knows. The other shoe will drop. He’s just trying to prepare for it.

She drums her pencil against the side of the horrible notebook and exhales through her nose, obviously irritated by his attitude. He just stares back at her.

“I’ve read your files, James,” Dr Raynor starts, the way she does so often. “And you’ve mentioned the word shul some time ago. I’m guessing you did not use it to mean school. You don’t have German ancestry.”

Bucky relaxes a little at that. Alright, it’s not about Steve. He silently thanks anyone who might be listening.

“My mother spoke a little German,” he replies conversationally. From what he remembers, it was only bits and pieces, picked up from growing up in a large city. It was probably mostly Yiddish.

“You were raised Jewish.”

Bucky can’t help the full body shift at that. He bristles. It feels like an attack, like an accusation. It feels ugly and menacing coming from that woman who knows too much. It feels disgusting in her mouth.

What does she want him to answer to that? What does she want from him?

He knows he’s not much of a Jew anymore. He knows what he’s done is too much, too ugly, too against everything he was ever taught. He was taught to save lives even if it breaks religious rules, to take care of people, to be kind and helpful and make sure to do good in the world and all he’ll ever be remembered for is ugly disgusting acts of horror.

He knows all of what he was raised to be is gone. He’s pretty sure it was gone the instant his hand slid on the train railing and he felt himself pulled down by gravity.

That moment where he saw the horror and anguish written all over Steve’s beautiful face. That moment where he knew he’d never see his mother again. His sisters. That moment he screamed in fear but tried to drink in Steve’s face for the last time. As if it could make it less terrifying and painful and lonely.

There was too much time during the fall. Too much time for him to think and feel. I’m going to die alone. He’d wanted to die old with his loved ones or the Chevra Kadisha with him. No one’s supposed to die alone.

The pain had been blinding. Some nights, he can hear his own wails again. Life and death have that in common. The screams.

“James.” Dr Raynor’s voice snaps him back to the present and she still looks pissed at him.

Bucky exhales and his breath is shaky. Panic curls into his bones. He can feel something inside of him tremble and he looks at the window. He could jump through it. Escape it that way. There are no bars on the window, it’s just glass, and it’s only two levels high. It’s doable, easy even. It won’t hurt that badly. He inhales, deep. Ayo taught him that one. Breathing. Focus on your body rather than on the storm in your mind, White Wolf.

He focuses on his body, but mostly on Ayo. The memory of her is strong and firm in his mind, in the same way she talks and walks. Ayo’s eyes always have weight. The kind of weight - smothering or comforting - depend on how he behaves. He’s trying to be good. He’s trying to be good for Wakanda, for Ayo, and for Princess Shuri and for King T’Challa.

Dr Raynor should be the one helping him, not the memory of Ayo.

He calms down, eventually, and sighs deeply, closing his eyes for a second. There’s a clock ticking loudly. It’s a wonderful sort of noise for him in this moment. It’s rhythmic and predictable.

“I was,” Bucky replies to Raynor’s earlier comment. He was raised Jewish.

In all truth, he was born Jewish more than he was raised Jewish. At least that’s what his father would say. That he was born into a legacy, born into a community. Born to sing songs in age-old tongues. Born with knowledge and strength in his soul.

He hasn’t thought about those words in years.

“You don’t talk about it.”

Why would he? There’s nothing to say. Words and experiences that he’s half-forgotten over the time, that he doesn’t have anyone to share with anymore. Community and family were such important parts of every ritual, and now he’s alone. Completely and utterly alone.

“There’s nothing to say,” he says out loud.

Raynor crosses her legs and leans back in her seat, watching him. “I would expect there’s a lot. You worked for an organisation that was born from Hitler’s government. You spent seventy years furthering nazi ideology and agenda.”

Bucky wants to scream. It’s salt in an open wound. It’s violent. He closes his eyes and tries to keep his cool. He can’t lose it here. He has work to do still, amends to make still, in the free world, and he is so desperate to stay out of prison.

“I know,” he replies. His voice is so tight it might break any second.

He knows. He’s very intimately aware of what he did, what it meant, who he was for seventy godforsaken years. He’s aware that it means he can’t possibly claim that part of his life back. He can’t be a Jew anymore. Not after being a Nazi agent for so long.

Even if he wasn’t actually one, even if he had no choice. He killed people and said ‘Hail Hydra’ and made the world a worse place every day of his existence. His actions are why fascism has such a prominent place in today’s political landscape. He’s responsible for it, for putting people in power, for killing good people. It’s on him. It isn’t his fault. It’s still on him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he tells Dr Raynor, and now his voice is quiet. “Not to you. Not to anyone. Ever.”

How can this part of his life possibly be of interest to the government? Do they think his jewish upbringing means he’s less likely to go back to Hydra and their neo-nazi friends? Do they see him reclaiming that part of his identity one more reason to keep him free? Is it a ploy? Is this going to be used against him, again? Can’t he have one thing in his life that isn’t used by someone else for their gain?

“It could be a way for you to form connections.” As if she gives a flying fuck if he has friends and family. As long as he doesn’t start killing people, comes to his appointments and does whatever the government tells him like a good fucking dog, he can pretty much go fuck himself.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this angry with her before.

How dare she touch this part of his life? How dare she prod him about it, let him know she knows? How dare she take that one thing that no one has been able to touch before?

Even Hydra didn’t know.

They never asked, his dog tags had P on them, and there are a lot of other Americans that were circumcised. They didn’t know.

But she does. The US government does. And he can’t have it be his secret anymore.

“Stop,” he asks, louder than he expected. “Stop, I said no.”

As if that has ever stopped anyone. As if those words have ever brought him anything but renewed suffering.

He doesn’t see her anymore. His eyes are open but he can’t see anything, and he’s panicking and he wants to run so far away. He wants to leave Brooklyn, and leave the US, and disappear and never come back. Fuck his pardon, fuck Sam, fuck everything and everyone, and he can go back to living in Romania and having no name and no handlers and no one.

He stands up suddenly and she flinches. She’s scared of him. Of course she is.

“The session’s not over,” Raynor tells him quietly, calmly, despite her earlier flinch. “Sit back down.”

“No,” he bites back.

He’s trapped, and he can’t actually leave because they’ll put him in prison for it, and he can’t do anything but stand there and shake with barely controlled emotion and try to wait it out. But he doesn’t have to take her orders, and he doesn’t have to be happy about it, all he has to do is be here and answer with more than a grunt.

He can say no. She can’t make him sit down. She’s not strong enough. Physically, anyway.

It takes on average three expertly-trained soldiers to take him down, and that’s when he’s half-starved and in pain. He’s been eating well, he’s clear of any sedative, and he’s not in physical pain. There is no way she can take him down, unless she has a gun. But in this room, if she makes a move for a gun; he’ll snap her wrist before she manages to touch it. She can’t do shit.

“Alright then,” she nods.

He narrows his eyes. She should be mad at him.

She looks down at her notebook and back at him. He stares at her, glares at her, trying to convey that if she starts writing in that fucking book, shit is going to happen. So she doesn’t.

“Why is this upsetting to you?” She asks him, back to her bullshit questions, and it makes Bucky want to punch something, anything. But he can’t.

Everything he has is devoted to controlling himself. His gloves creak again, with the exertion of containing his fists. The prosthetic is loud in the silence, threatening. At least it’s loud to him.

“I said no.”

“So it’s all off limits?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Boundaries, that’s what they’re called. And that part of his identity is behind the line. He thought he was ready to talk about everything that’s in the files, but he was wrong. Not that. Never that.

Dr Raynor sighs heavily, looking away from him. He can tell she’s only pretending, trying to make him feel a little more at ease.

“I need to know about these things, James.”

He huffs. “I’m doing the work you want me to do. I have a quiet life.”

“You’ve told me about the shul already,” Dr Raynor points out.

“Yeah. I did.” And it was a mistake.

He just wants to be left alone. He wants to do his job and be left alone. And she doesn’t get that. She scoffs when he tells her he wants peace and serenity, she needles him about the things he’s not ready to say. He’s pretty sure she’s not a good therapist, and he literally doesn’t have any other experience.

Dr Raynor sighs heavily again, parading her irritation out to him. He doesn’t move.

“Well. We won’t get anywhere today. You’ve won. The session’s over, you can go home.”

You’ve won. He tastes something sour.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods at her. There’s no use in dignifying her with much of anything. He mumbles ‘goodbye’ because he was raised right by his ma and calls it a fucking day.

He’s pretty sure he finishes his pack of cigarettes by the time he gets home.

#jewish bucky series #bucky barnes #dr christina raynor #jewish bucky barnes #mine #fic #marvel

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years

Text

Saints&Reading: Wed., Feb.10, 2021

Commemorated on January 28_by the New calendar

The Monk Ephrem the Syrian (373)

The Monk Ephrem the Syrian, a teacher of repentance, was born at the beginning of the IV Century (his precise year of birth is unknown) in the city of Ninevah (Mesopotamia) into the family of impoverished toilers of the soil. His parents raised their son in piety. But from the time of his childhood he was known for his quick temper and irascible character, and in his youth he often had fights, he acted thoughtlessly, and even doubted of God's Providence, until he finally recovered his senses from the Lord's doing, guiding him on the path of repentance and salvation. One time he was unjustly accused of the theft of a sheep and was thrown into prison. And there in a dream he heard a voice, calling him to repentance and rectifying his life. After this, he was acquitted of the charges and set free. Within Ephrem there took place a deep repentance. The youth withdrew outside the city and became an hermit. This form of Christian asceticism had been introduced at Ninevah by a disciple of the Monk Anthony the Great, – the Egyptian Wilderness-Dweller Eugenios (Eugene). Among the hermits especially prominent was the noted ascetic, a preacher of Christianity and denouncer of the Arians, the bishop of the Ninevah Church, Saint James (Comm. 13 January). The Monk Ephrem became one of his disciples. Under the graced guidance of the holy hierarch, the Monk Ephrem attained to Christian meekness, humility, submission to the Will of God, and the strength without murmur to undergo various temptations. Saint James knew the high qualities of his student and he used them for the good of the Ninevah Church – he entrusted him to read sermons, to instruct children in the school, and he took Ephrem along with him to the First OEcumenical Council at Nicea (in the year 325). The Monk Ephrem was in obedience to Saint James for 14 years, until the bishop's death.

After the capture of Ninevah by the Persians in the year 363, the Monk Ephrem abandoned the wilderness and settled in a monastery near the city of Edessa. Here he saw many a great ascetic, passing their lives in prayer and psalmody. Their caves were solitary shelters, and they fed themselves off a certain plant. He became especially close with the ascetic Julian (Comm. 18 October), who was one with him in a spirit of repentance. The Monk Ephrem combined with his ascetic works an incessant study of the Word of God, gathering within it for his soul both solace and wisdom. The Lord gave him a gift of teaching, and people began to come to him, wanting to hear his guidances, which produced a particular effect upon the soul, since he began with self-accusation. The monk both verbally and in writing instructed everyone in repentance, faith and piety, and he denounced the Arian heresy, which during those times was disrupting Christian society. And pagans likewise, listening to the preaching of the monk, were converted to Christianity. He also toiled no little at the interpretation of Holy Scripture – with an explication of the Pentateuch (i.e. "Five Books") of Moses. He wrote many a prayer and church-song, thereby enriching the Church's Divine-services. Famed prayers of Saint Ephrem are to the MostHoly Trinity, to the Son of God, and to the MostHoly Mother of God. He wrote for his Church song for the Twelve Great Feastdays of the Lord (the Nativity of Christ, the Baptism, the Resurrection), and funereal song. Saint Emphrem's Prayer of Repentance, "O Lord and Master of my life...", is said during Great Lent, and it summons Christians to spiritual renewal. The Church since times ancient valued highly the works of the Monk Ephrem: his works were read in certain churches, at gatherings of the faithful, after the Holy Scripture. And now at present in accord with the Church Ustav (Rule), certain of his instructions are prescribed to be read on the days of Lent. Amidst the prophets, Saint David is pre-eminently the psalmodist; amidst the holy fathers of the Church the Monk Ephrem the Syrian – is pre-eminently a man of prayer. His spiritual experience made him a guide to monks and an help to the pastors of Edessa. The Monk Ephrem wrote in Syrian, but his works were very early translated into the Greek and Armenian languages, and from the Greek – into the Latin and Slavonic languages. In numerous of the works of the Monk Ephrem are encountered glimpses of the life of the Syrian ascetics, the centre of which involved prayer and with it thereupon the toiling for the common good of the brethren, in the obediences. The outlook of the meaning of life among all the Syrian ascetics was the same. The end purpose of their efforts was considered by the monks to be communality with God and the diffusion of Divine grace within the soul of the ascetic; the present life for them was a time of tears, fasting and toil. "If the Son of God be within thee, then also His Kingdom is within thee. Here then is the Kingdom of God – within thee, a sinner. Go inwards into thine self, search diligently and without toil thou shalt find it. Outside of thee – is death, and the door to it – is sin. Go inwards into thine self, dwell within thine heart, for since there – is God". Constant spiritual sobriety, the developing of good within the soul of man gives unto him the possibility to take upon himself a task like blessedness, and a self-constraint like sanctity. The requital is presupposed in the earthly life of man, it is an undertaking by degrees of its spiritual perfection. Whoso grows himself wings upon the earth, says the Monk Ephrem, is one who soars up into the heights; whoso down here purifies his mind – there glimpses the Glory of God; in what measure each one loveth God – is that measure wherein is satiated to fullness by the love of God. Man, cleansing himself and attaining the grace of the Holy Spirit while still here, down upon the earth, has a foretaste therein of the Kingdom of Heaven. To attain to life eternal, in the teachings of the Monk Ephrem, does not mean to pass over from one sphere of being into another, but means rather to discover "the Heavenly" spiritual condition of being. Eternal life is not bestown man as a one-sided working by God, but rather like a seed, it constantly grows within him through effort, toil and struggle. The pledge within us of "theosis" ("obozhenie" or "deification") – is the Baptism of Christ, and the primal propulsion for the Christian life – is repentance. The Monk Ephrem was a great teacher of repentance. The forgiveness of sins in the sacramental-mystery of Repentance, according to his teaching, is not an external exoneration, not a forgetting of the sins, but rather their complete undoing, their annihilation. The tears of repentance wash away and burn away the sin. And moreover – they (i.e. the tears) vivify, they transfigure sinful nature, they give the strength "to walk in the way of the commandments of the Lord", encouraging the hope on God. In the fiery font of Repentance, wrote the Monk, "thou dost sail thyself across, O sinner, thou dost resuscitate thyself from the dead". The Monk Ephrem, in his humility reckoning himself the least and worst of all, at the end of his life set out to Egypt, to see the efforts of the great ascetics. He was accepted there as a welcome guest and received for himself great solace in his associating with them. On the return journey he visited at Caesarea Cappadocia with Sainted Basil the Great (Comm. 1 January), who wanted to ordain him a priest, but the monk considered himself unworthy of priesthood, and at the insistence of Saint Basil, he accepted only the dignity of deacon, in which he remained until death. Even later on, Saint Basil the Great invited the Monk Ephrem to accept the cathedra-chair of a bishop, but the saint feigned folly to avoid for himself this honour, in humility reckoning himself unworthy of it. Upon his return to his own Edessa wilderness, the Monk Ephrem intended to spend the rest of his life in solitude. But Divine Providence again summoned him to service of neighbour. The inhabitants of Edessa were suffering from a devastating famine. By the influence of his word, the monk induced the wealthy to render aid to those that lacked. From the offerings of believers he built a poor-house for the destitute and sick. The Monk Ephrem then withdrew to a cave nigh to Edessa, where he remained to the end of his days.

James 3:11-4:6

11Does a spring send forth fresh water and bitter from the same opening?12 Can a fig tree, my brethren, bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Thus no spring yields both salt water and fresh.13 Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show by good conduct that his works are done in the meekness of wisdom.14 But if you have bitter envy and self-seeking in your hearts, do not boast and lie against the truth.15 This wisdom does not descend from above, but is earthly, sensual, demonic.16For where envy and self-seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing are there.17 But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. 18 Now the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.

1Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure that war in your members? 2 You lust and do not have. You murder and covet and cannot obtain. You fight and war. Yet you do not have because you do not ask. 3 You ask and do not receive, because you ask amiss, that you may spend it on your pleasures. 4 Adulterers and adulteresses! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Whoever therefore wants to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God. 5 Or do you think that the Scripture says in vain, "The Spirit who dwells in us yearns jealously"? 6 But He gives more grace. Therefore He says:"God resists the proud, But gives grace to the humble."

Galatians 5:22-6:2

22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. 24 And those who are Christ's have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. 26 Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.

1Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted. 2 Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

#orthodoxy #orthodox christianity #ancientchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #sacredtexts #wisdom

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cadomoisspokenfor · 3 years

Text

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 5:

Everything You Wanna Be

Pre-amble: Farouk’s showing David how to use (and how he thinks he should be using) his powers. There’s a lot of self-absorbed moments from David, and as we know from future episodes Farouk desire is for David to have the same God complex he does. It’s likely he’s attempting to push him down that path all throughout the ep. It even culminates with him attacking Amy just like he did in s2. Only he doesn’t actually end up killing Amy here, though if I had to guess... he would’ve if the others weren’t on their way. Farouk sees killing Amy as “setting David free.” He’s trying to make David hate her (hence forcing Amy to reveal her secrets) so that he’ll start to see the world the way Farouk does. Hypocrites, liars, cheats. “The world will never respect us, therefore we deserve to be as selfish as we want.” Sound familiar? I think David’s actions are explained by Farouk trying to gradually instill these thoughts throughout the episode.

(Post ep addition, pretty sure I was right)

His actions here could be interpreted as more attempts to be helpful, just poorly approached. He tells Melanie he met her husband. His face looks smug, but he could also be smiling cause he thinks she’ll be happy about it. He does look confused when she walks away, as if he’s not sure what he said wrong. Alternatively, Farouk encouraged him to be callous, but after he said it his empathy kicked in and he wondered if maybe it was too mean.

David seems more at piece here than at any other point in the show, and this despite just getting Kerry shot by targeting the wrong person.

Syd seems very concerned about Kerry. The first thing she tells David is that they stopped the bleeding. David then cuts her off from going into what they discovered on their mission.

Small addition: what was Syd gonna tell David about the mission? What was she gonna say they may know now?

“I’m The Magic Man.” Very Shadow King of David to give himself a prestigious nickname.

Another moment of David trying to overcome Syds condition for his own desires. It’s still possible he thinks Syd wants this too. And if the latter’s the case, then it’s also another incident of David trying to be helpful and coming off as creepy unintentionally. From his perspective, he can finally give everyone what they want. What he thinks they want (And they’re all gonna owe him for it).

“It’s all an illusion. I see that now. Why’d I fight so hard?” “They’re signals, that’s all. Impulses sent from nerve endings. Electricity in the brain. Real, fake, it’s all the same.” ~Is that what one has to believe to properly understand the astral plane? Is there no way around solipsism for powerful psychics? Or is it just Farouk’s influence?

Syd is the first one to go in for the mouth to mouth kiss.

Cary seems to mistrust David a little bit this episode. Or at least be apprehensive about him. When Melanie says he could bring Oliver back he stays quiet and looks to Kerry. Melanie also looks to Kerry and seemingly understands his apprehension. Kerry getting shot happened specifically because David intervened. At least, that’s my interpretation of the subtle acting there.

Cary also told Melanie the episode before not to get her hopes up. That could also be what his look meant.

David’s stated multiple times he cares more about Amy than anything. Now he’s confident in his powers and Melanie’s STILL trying to keep him from going. That might be why the David side of this mind-meld goes along with the coming cruelty.

I think David’s definitely a little mad at Melanie for still telling him he can’t save his sister. I guess the connection is they both have someone they want saved, and if Melanie won’t let him save Amy, then he’s not exactly motivated to save Oliver.

Syd makes fun of Melanie's sadness about Oliver. “How long has he been in there? The astral- whatever 🤔🙄😴?” She was more empathetic when she wasn’t around David.

When Melanie says Oliver’s been lost for “21 years” Syd’s disposition changes. It looks like she maybe reconsiders her mean girls approach, a pang of guilt probably.

David seems to also be making fun of her a bit. I guess thinking about it, Lenny does always tell David not to trust them. The whole of Summerland I mean. Maybe David’s taking her advice on them since she did help get him out the astral plane. Or maybe Lenny’s just exerting more control in those moments.

Everyone in the room picked up on Davids hostile stance. I think... perhaps David’s reviling in the sense of power he feels right now. He no longer feels the need to listen to anyone but himself. With his powers, he can do whatever he wants. This is all by design, Farouk wants him to experience this specific feeling. It all go towards his goal of turning David into someone like him. A power broker with a God complex.

Despite Kerry being the protector in their relationship, Cary always end up taking on her wounds anyways.

The first “Who teaches us to be normal when we’re one of a kind.” Followed by “Promise me if you get lost, we get lost together.”

She says the latter fresh off of hearing Melanie's story about Oliver, who got lost and left Melanie alone. She also says it off the heels of discovering Davids past and his previous violent incidents. All throughout her journey last episode Ptonomy was trying to convince her that David was mentally unwell. Therefore “lost” in this since could mean both literally lost as in lost in the astral plane, and metaphorically lost as in losing your mind. And in combination with “who teaches us to be normal”, Syd’s essentially saying, “I’m no stranger to regretful past incidents. Just take me with you if the cookies start to crumble.” David would not end up taking her with him. Not that she wanted to go by that point anyways.

Additional note: This is the first recounting of Syd’s big mistake. Though, based on her tone, it seems like she knows what she did? Later in the series she’ll justify it more and twist it to place herself in more of a victim role. But here... the story is framed like an admittance.

David doesn’t want to leave without the others, Lenny convinces him otherwise.

It’s unclear when Lenny full takes over David. David’s had maniacal moments before that point, but not that bad. And the personality he shows in the D3 raid seems closer to his personality when talking to Amy in their old house later. That is to say... not his personality. He’s fully taken over by Farouk in the house, and scared out of his mind. Though... it’s still possible he just doesn’t want Amy to be hurt. Even before he and Farouk started merging, David was no stranger to remorseless killing. In ep 1 a D3 guy grabs him by the neck, the camera pans, a loud SNAP is heard, and suddenly David’s further down the path. No D3 guy in sight. And as pointed out in my notes for previous episodes, he does compulsively keep secrets even before s2. All-in-all, it being ambiguous is definitely the point.

David intentionally left earlier than he said he would. Summerland was clearly preparing for the raid, but Lenny convinced him to leave them behind. Everyone’s trying to help David, but Lenny keeps isolating him, and encouraging him to be cruel. And because of the situation with Amy, he’s more inclined to listen to Lenny than anyone at Summerland.

BIG NOTICE: Ptonomy says, “You don’t think I have a sister. Or a girlfriend. Or a mom?” Because of the next episode, we know he lost his mom when he was little. If he’s stretching the truth about her, maybe he’s stretching the truth about the girlfriend and the sister. He might just be frustrated with all the trouble around David and is putting forth any and all arguments to try and get the others to see reason, whether or not it’s relevant to his actual life. Like Devils advocate.

Ptonomy gets real harsh this scene. “This war is bigger than some guy named David and his sister” is probably relevant for future episodes. But making fun of Melanie's Oliver grief? It’s starting to feel like everyone’s doing it at this point. And she’s very offended by it.

Syd very sweetly says, “He found a way for us to be together. A place.” It meant a lot to her. Remembering the white room puts Syd in a certain mood, as discussed below.

Syd’s been acting like this all episode, or post-white room at least. She’s “love drunk.” “All animals need physical contact to feel love.” While that’s not exactly accurate, Syd’s first experience with non-power-activating touch is very impactful. But even despite this she’s not completely impenetrable. After the couch scene earlier, the affects started to wear off. She seemed worried looking at David as he flanked Melanie like a predator. And she pulled back on her cruelty after hearing how long Oliver had been lost. But this scene is after she’s had another hit. And similarly to the couch scene, she pulls back after hearing Melanie’s concern. This pattern will continue in later seasons of the show.

ALSO ALSO, as noted in the previous episode, David’s life falling apart pre-clockworks was in part because of bad influence from his friend “Benny.” And now in the present he’s making tons of dangerous decisions again because of the bad influence of his friend “Lenny.” In both cases Davids actions will be considered his own, regardless of who influenced him. I’ll just leave it at that.

Syd can’t think of a retort to Melanie’s statement. David’s acting completely differently than the David she knew before. She doesn’t know what to think of him right now.

Everyone’s been doubting David’s capability all episode, but now for the first time they see the absolute power he wields. And it’s horrifying. It wasn’t just doable for David, it was easy. It was too easy. It’s starting to become clear why Ptonomy asked David, “What are you?”

Everyone they meet in D3 is a potential enemy, even prisoners like Kissinger. This mindset makes them seem very unheroic.

The first attack we see David do in the security footage is that bright light pulse attack. It doesn’t turn them to shadows, but it definitely instakills them.

If Farouk wasn’t fully in control... why would he show up on the infrared? He normally hides himself inside David’s head, no?

Cary hears scary Farouk generated noises even when David’s not physically around. It seems like Farouk’s hauntings naturally infect people, like a virus.

I think Cary may have left the room when Farouk started fully messing with David. That’s probably why he hadn’t seen this footage before.

David leveled their entire forces in ways never before seen, all to get Amy back. “This war is bigger than some guy named David and his sister.” Evidently not. David is the most powerful being on Earth. And because of that, he’s the most important too. Or at least... that’s what the show repeatedly implies.

David is once again implied to be inhuman (not the actual marvel classification, just... un-human). In this case we could attribute it to them seeing The Devil With Yellow Eyes come towards them on infrared. But it will still be reapplied to David later on.

Through the discovery of Farouk, David’s previous actions are all forgiven. This mutant parasite has been the one rewriting his memories and influencing his actions for as long as David’s been alive. Ptonomy has a look of understanding, as do Melanie, Syd, and Rudy. It all clicks now, every little action. So now all they have to do is get Farouk out of his head, and everything will be hunky dory. I’m trying to say, the goal is clear for the first time.

A very disturbing scene. David’s lost control completely, and all his nightmares are guarding the exits to his mind. The situation may be clear, but that doesn’t mean this will be easy, or harbor no long lasting affects.

Amy fully admits she knew and was too scared to say anything. Knowing that Farouk later kills her for Davids sake makes this all the more dreadful.

When “David” says “You know something about me,” Amy shakes her head at first.

Farouk scares Amy into spilling the truth. “My whole life is a lie. I just need to know... who am I?” After Amy says it, “You were adopted,” Farouk allows the real David to come forward again. He wants him to feel this for himself. The feeling of betrayal, never being told his real origins. An outsider in every way imaginable. His ideas about himself all have different context now. His fondest memories throughout the series were with his parents and sister as a little kid. And now he’s not biologically related to them. He understands what Farouk meant now. His “whole life is a lie.” Amy knew this and kept it from him for decades. His adoptive parents never told him. Everyone’s in on it except him.

Syd is thinking of the white room on her way to see David.

“I don’t have an illness!” Farouk is succeeding in his goal of making David rethink his relationship with Amy. Perhaps in the moment... he no longer feels much compassion for his sister. She didn’t just hide the adoption after all, she also contributed to the societal gaslighting around his powers. I’m starting to see why she’s portrayed the way she is in the next episode...

“He’s not crazy, this is much, much worse.” What once were thought of as delusions are now being validated as completely real. David is no doubt traumatized, but he doesn’t have paranoid schizophrenia (according to the show at the moment). What he does have is a mutant-ghost that needs busting.

With David’s relationship with Amy permanently changed, Farouk moves on to messing with his Summerland friends. The goal, again, is to isolate David and convince him of his philosophy. “We are Gods. Gods make rules, they don’t follow them.”

Syd sheds a tear out of fear after being jump-scared by The Angriest Boy. She’s scared as all get out, but keeps moving forward for David’s sake. Syd is once again willing to risk everything for David. Or... is she just risking it for the idea of him? What��s the difference?

Walters abilities are still unclear to me.

Cary almost played charades with Melanie to tell her about the crown (or halo in this iteration?)

Kerry can either summon or just store weapons inside of Cary.

David’s very upset that he can’t stop Lenny. And he still thinks Lenny is a part of himself. We know better. But it does seem clear hear that David didn’t want any of the things that happened that day to happen. I think I feel comfortable clearing him on all charges for the D3 raid. For now...

David’s the one that first puts him and Syd in the astral plane. Farouk just seizes the opportunity takes control of the simulation. No doubt to multiple ends.

#legion fx

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dream-wreck · 4 years

Text

Count On You

Surprise! “Count On Me” has an unintended part 2.

Chapter 2 Title: Count On You Rating: G Word Count: 1,668 Description: When the office door closes, Neil can be alone in his own world. That's not always a good thing.

…..

Of all things, Neil missed spaghetti the most. Jarred red sauce, fifty-cent pasta, pre-grated parmesan (if he was feeling especially bougie). Nothing could beat it. He didn’t miss the reflux, but he’d deck his esophageal halls with ulcers if it meant eating a real meal, a heaping bowl of comfort food that would leave him full and sluggish and knock Insomnia flat on its back.

Neil ran his thumb over a medicine-purple protein bar wrapper, smoothing out the perforated ends between the flesh of his thumb and index finger. The yellow POWER BAR logo rippled and glimmered under his office lights like a cheap trick.

Clearly, the graphic designers had no idea that their chosen font and colors made the meal replacement look like a cartoon villain’s mind-controlling sugar bar. This one was supposed to taste vaguely reminiscent of peanut butter, which he’d discovered was easier to stomach than the artificial vanilla flavor that stuck to his tongue for hours after the fact.

He tore the wrapping down the middle. The sickly brown bar revealed itself, shedding its tacky cape.

He took a vengeful bite out of the bar, feeling as triumphant as he possibly could while chewing something that tasted like cardboard soaked in old peanut oil. Just last week, these weren’t so bad. He could stomach them and they had tasted pretty decent.

I was thinking of you the entire time, he’d eventually say to a heaping bowl of angel hair pasta and marinara.

Eventually. One day, soon. When all this was over, Neil could quit skipping meals and popping pain pills like tic tacs and Mentos.

The single bite of bar began to disintegrate in his mouth the same way a bad piece of gum chewed too long turns into a compound of sand and slime. Neil choked the mixture down and lunged for his water bottle. Empty. He turned to the mini fridge and pulled out an ice cold energy drink that had been sitting on standby, untouched, for months.

“Don’t tell Eva,” Neil said, snapping the tab open in the vacant room. The drink went down cold and sweet, washing the gritty paste from his tongue. He’d regret the caffeine in an hour or two, but for now, the familiar bubbles were worth whatever he had coming later.

A lot of things had become worth it recently. He banished the pitiful excuse for a protein bar to the bottom drawer, sitting down in his desk chair, staring at the paperwork that so desperately needed filing. A fib, of course. He’d never filed paperwork on time in his life. Lying to Eva....Neil had yet to discern if that was worth keeping any secret.

What secret? In the end, what could be worth keeping from her? That Neil Watts was mortal? Extraordinary, but mortal. Extraordinarily mortal.

He thought of Eva sitting outside the men’s room while he retched, stretching to keep pace with him in the hall, reminding him about the simple things. There is so much said in reminding someone to take care of themselves in the little ways, to drink water, to take time. Neil wished he were a better listener, that his pride would crumble for a day or two, long enough for him to set good habits and be honest -- with himself, with Eva, with everyone.

Fluorescent humming grated his ears, burned his eyes. He felt new sickness swelling. He shut his eyes to the room’s blue white.

He’d worry a lot less if Eva would just let it drop. She cared too much, that was her problem. She was usually good at hiding it. At work, of course, surrounded all day by dying people and their repressed traumas, you need to find a way to push through it all without completely breaking down, balancing visible empathy with healthy detachment.

Crying in front of the clients doesn’t get the job done, and it certainly doesn’t look good on evaluations.

Their particular line of work called for expert compartmentalization. Eva had mastered concealing a naturally compassionate disposition behind cold professionalism, efficiency, and control. It was never just another day at the office for her, even if she’d sometimes seem unfeeling when the chips were down.

Neil knew her too well. She always wanted to help. She was a problem solver, always trained on an objective, never one to dwell, to stutter-step, to second guess. She never let things lie. Why should a problem go unsolved?

He used to hold that against her, that she couldn’t let things be, that she could get a little control-crazy when things shifted from their right places into wrong places, drifting away from order like moons out of orbit. But she wasn’t the one who had to cheat on her entrance exams. And between the two of them, she seemed to have her life under control.

Neil Watts had looked to Eva Rosalene for a lifetime of answers. He could count on her for anything. She always came in clutch (he’d been watching a lot of Esports streams lately, picking up on the lingo during his late night nausea fits).

It wasn’t a question of whether or not Eva cared about him. It was a question of, if Neil truly believed in Eva Rosalene, why on God’s green earth had he not told her a lick of truth about what was really going on? He dove down for a good answer, or even a scrap of a convoluted selfish reasoning, but resurfaced empty.

In his coat pocket, a little blue bottle pressed against Neil’s thigh. He crossed his arms, but he only grew more aware of the light pressure resting there. It annoyed him, more than anything, like feeling a strand of hair brush along your skin, but just when you think you’ve swiped it away, there it is again, brushing just light enough to frustrate, to aggravate, to piss you off. Neil bounced his knee, trying to shake the coat off his leg, but the bump beneath the white cloth just moused its way back and forth, prodding.

He should do that paperwork. Listen to music or something to pass the time.

His stomach roiled. Neil slipped a hand into his pocket. He closed his fist around the smooth bottle, ran his thumb over the cap, catching his thumbnail along the ridges there. Comforting, he thought. The action really did calm his nerves.

Eva was across the hall. Fifteen steps away. A knock away. A conversation away.

Neil didn’t bother to set a stopwatch so he never knew how long he sat there, his thumb running back and forth over the ridges in the lid while his mind wandered, imagining the many ways that conversation could go, the look on Eva’s face, the disappointment. Daydream Neil started crying, but Real Neil didn’t think that was very dignified, so he started from the beginning, approaching Dr. Eva Rosalene in her office. Figuring she’d probably be busy, he reset to the cafeteria. A nice talk over lunch. When Eva burst into tears and people from the surrounding tables looked their way, Neil chose the park, even though they weren’t in the habit of going to the park together and never had been. But it was quiet, undisturbed. A gorgeous day in this self-revising simulation. He guided Eva to a bench. They sat down. Eva told him to take his time, that she knew something was wrong, that she was glad Neil could finally talk to her. Yes, he was ready. It would be amazing to finally say it out loud. To someone else. To confide. To confess….

He opened his eyes to the harsh light.

Confess? What was that word doing, flitting about in his stream of consciousness?

An email notification pinged on his desktop. He moved to open it with a click. It read:

If you’re up for it, they’re showing Inception and the Cowboy Bebop movie tonight. It’s the weirdest double feature ever so I have to go, it’s the law.

Popcorn’s light on the stomach, right? Let me know, my treat. --Eva

Perfect. He could talk to her then. Simple, easy as that. All that melodramatic daydreaming over nothing. He could talk to her then. Besides: free food.

Neil’s stomach suddenly felt very, very empty. His usual nausea felt like he was too full and ready to burst.

But it suddenly felt as if something small inside were eating away at everything, the lining and the tissue and the bile, hungrily consuming out of a gluttonous jealousy that which consumes. And when there would be nothing left, that small something would eat the air and the Nothing until an impossible vacuum remained. And Neil would also remain, nothing more than a container to conceal a parasitic anomaly, cursed never to be filled again.

His hand closed around the little blue bottle. The pills inside stirred, knocking against the walls of their plastic prison.

The emptiness in his stomach slowly spread into his hips and ribs, knees and neck, his head and the space behind his eyes, until his whole body felt hollow and the hollow spaces felt sore.

This moment was nearly one of those moments that change everything. Very important, nearly pivotal, but not to be realized, lacking the crucial self-awareness that would have sent things this way and that, particularly along different this-es and better thats. The manner in which a single rock falls prevents or triggers a landslide.

Neil drew the bottle from his pocket, poured two little white pills into his palm, tossed them back. They scraped down the dry walls of his throat, as though clawing for a foothold, before eventually settling in the cavern of his stomach, and almost instantaneously, the pain began to dwindle.

Neil didn’t stop to consider the impossibility of this. If he had, it would have made all the difference. But he didn’t, so it did not, and things seemed to remain relatively the same, the distant sound of tumbling rocks drowned by electric humming.

--------

Chapter 2 end notes: Ended up somewhere unexpected, as writing usually does. My fingers like to run without me sometimes. Pleasant surprises though! Thank you for supporting "Count On Me"! You all are the best :)

Wubnjeft

...

I've been reading a lot of science fiction lately.

#lol it was all supposed to stay a one shot #that never happens #count on me #count on you #rosawatts #to the moon #finding paradise #eva rosalene #neil watts #fanfiction #finding paradise fanfiction #drug use #imposter factory

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myownsuperintendent · 5 years

Text

2019 Fic Masterpost

Here’s an updated masterpost of my fic, divided into my usual fairly arbitrary categories (plus a new one, crossover). I didn’t write a ton this year, but those fics are in bold.

AU (Canon Divergent):

“Always Something New”–On William’s prom night, Scully tells Mulder a story from her own. Rated T.

“Better Late Than Never”– Mulder is plotting a surprise for Scully. Rated G. Set in Season 8. (Birthday gift for @xv12.)

“A Day Out”– Scully, Mulder, and Emily spend a day at the beach. Rated G. Very fluffy.

“Family”–Along with their three children, Mulder and Scully celebrate Scully’s sixtieth birthday. Post-series AU. Rated G. 112% fluff.

“In My Dreams”– She knows it’s not going to go anywhere–but Monica can’t help having feelings for Dana Scully. Rated G. Set during Seasons 8 and 9 and post-IWTB. Largely canon compliant but ignores Season 10.

“Marry Me”--Mulder and Scully decide to get married. Season 8 AU. Rated T.

“Nightmare”– Mulder tries to console Emily, who is worried about the incipient arrival of her new sibling. AU, set in the Season Eight era. Rated G.

“No Secrets”– After he’s returned from his abduction, Mulder and Scully have a talk about their relationship. Rated G. Set in Season 8.

“Support System”–It’s Dana’s decision, but Monica wants to at least give her the space to make it. Rated G. Set in Season 9.

“A Tale of Two Nosebleeds”– Even family life can sometimes lead to accidents. Set in a universe in which all three of Scully’s kids lived. Rated G. Fluff, but warning for blood.

“Tell Me”--In prison, Mulder wants to hear about William. AU in which Scully did not give up William, set during "The Truth." Rated G.

“Time and Again”– 1973 and 2010–two boys look out for their younger sisters. Rated G.

“Stomach Flu”--Emily brings home the stomach flu from kindergarten. Soon Scully catches it too--or does she? Rated G.

“Visions and Voyages”– When danger threatens, the Mulder-Scully family goes on the run together. AU set in the Season 9 era. Rated G.

“You Know Your Mama Was Born To Die”– After the invasion, a woman and her son try to make their way in Washington, D.C. Rated T.

…

Crossover:

“Take Me To Your Leader” (part two here)--It's 2037, and Leslie Knope has just been sworn in as President of the United States, only to find her inaugural address followed by an alien invasion. For help, she and Ben call on two experts--retired FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully--and the four team up to defeat the alien threat. Parks and Recreation crossover. Rated T.

...

Episode Specific:

“Across the Country”– During “Anasazi,” Scully drives across the country with an unconscious Mulder in the back seat. Rated G.

“In the Open”–After the events of “Small Potatoes,” Mulder and Scully reflect. Rated G.

“It’s the Job”– During “4-D,” Reyes and Scully discuss being a woman in the FBI. Rated T. References to sexual violence.

“Wild Romance”–It’ll be sixty years next week, but she still remembers that strange night in 1939. Rated G. Set (sixty years) post-“Triangle.”

…

Humorous:

“Fugue for Fish”–Mulder’s fish become enamored with Scully’s tattoo. Rated G. Crack pairing.

“Lipstick on Your Collar”– The FBI has many cases to solve. One of the biggest mysteries is the status of the relationship between Agents Mulder and Scully–and like in any case, it’s important to have evidence before jumping to conclusions. Rated G.

“Nose Implants Just Have That Richer Feel”–Some aliens are perfectly content using neck implants, but some are nostalgic for the past. Rated G.

“Yes, Dana, There is a Santa Claus”– Mulder believes in a lot of strange things–but when he suggests that Santa Claus is the culprit for a series of strange murders, Scully doesn’t know what to think. The case, along with the stresses of the season and her unconfessed feelings for her partner, makes for a very complicated Christmas. Rated T. Casefile.

…

Part of a Series:

1960s AU: “How to Expand Your Mind”– In 1966, college student Dana Scully makes a new acquaintance–Fox Mulder–in the process of tracking down her sister among New York’s hippie scene. Rated T. “While She Was Somewhere Being Free”–More than anything, Samantha doesn’t want to be trapped again. Rated T. “I Can’t Go Back There Anymore”– When Diana Fowley returns to New York’s hippie scene after selling out and moving away, Melissa Scully is happy to have her best friend back. But the complications Diana brings into the burgeoning relationship between Melissa’s sister Dana and Fox Mulder force Melissa to examine her own feelings for Diana. Rated T. “Summers of Love”– During the summers of 1966, 1967, and 1968, Mulder and Scully, spending time apart, communicate and build their relationship by letter. Rated M. “The First Few Friends I Had”–Diana arrives in New York, ready to live a new life. Set prior to the other fics in the series. Rated T. “Old and New”--When Monica meets John Doggett, she wants to know him better, even though he's different from most of her friends. Their relationship, however, brings many complications. Rated G. “Reunions”--After summers spent apart, Mulder and Scully reunite. Rated M. “Five Times Someone Walked in on Starchild and Byers (and One Time They Walked in on Someone Else”--Byers and Susanne have a fraught but passionate relationship, as their friends witness at first hand. Rated M.

A Different Place series (“Herrenvolk” AU): “A Different Place”– Herrenvolk AU. When Mulder successfully brings one of the Samantha clones back from the farm with him, she must learn to adapt to a different life. Rated G. “No-Fail Chicken Soup”– Samantha just wants to help Scully, but it’s not as easy as she hopes. Rated G. Cancer arc. “Real Ghosts”– Samantha doesn’t care for Halloween, but she finds that it has its attractions. Set in 2000. Rated G. “Five Times Samantha Was Different (And One Time It Didn’t Matter)”--Even as she adapts to a new life, there’s a lot that’s strange to Samantha. Rated G.

See the USA series (post-season 9 AU): “See the USA”– Life as a family on the run brings some joys and some challenges for Mulder, Scully, and William. Rated T. “Here Now”–On their third night on the run, Mulder spends some time with his son. Set prior to “See the USA.” Rated G.

Signs Series (Martha’s Vineyard Sign Language AU): “Signs”–On Martha’s Vineyard in the nineteenth century, deafness is common. But for the Mulder family, interaction with the world on the mainland poses new challenges. Rated G. “Communications”– In this installment, after a broken arm lands him in the hospital, Mulder meets a nurse who knows sign language and perhaps can help him on his quest to find his sister. Rated G.

Welcome series (based on Season 11 Emily casting rumors): “Welcome”– In Wyoming, they spend the first morning with Emily. Rated G. “Conversations”–Emily tries to come to terms with the presence of Scully and Mulder in her life. Rated G. “At the House”– Some months after the events of “Conversations,” Mulder, Scully, Emily, and William return to the unremarkable house and continue to build their relationships. Rated G. “Moving”– With the help of Mulder and Scully, William moves into his dorm room. Rated G. “Next Year”--In the year following their reunion as a family, Mulder, Scully, Emily, and William navigate their relationships. Rated T.

…

Post Season Eleven:

“Baby Books”–Scully has a baby book for each of her children. Set from seasons 5 to post season 11. Rated G.

“Camping Trip”--Scully takes her daughter on a Girl Scout camping trip. Rated G.

“Looking Forward”–Scully tries to cope with her feelings as she and Mulder prepare for the new baby. Rated T.

“Renewal”– After Scully has a difficult birth with her third child, Jackson comes back to the Unremarkable House to help care for his sister. Rated G. Warning for childbirth complications.

“Return”–On a walk with their daughter, Mulder and Scully meet their son. Rated G.

“Snow Globe”– After their daughter is born, Mulder and Scully receive an unexpected gift. Post-season 11. Rated G.

“Two Evenings”–Mulder and Scully’s grown daughter spends one evening with her brother and another with her parents. Rated G.

…

Set Within Canon:

“Dirty Talk”–Mulder loves the way Scully talks. Rated T.

“Eligible”– Charlie tries to help his sister out during her break-up. Set between IWTB and the revival. Rated T.

“Five Times Scully Talked To William (And One Time They Talked To Each Other)”–There were moments when she was able to talk to her son. Rated G. Set in Seasons 8 and 9 and post-Season 10.

“Mappable Territory”–When Scully travels, she thinks of her father. Rated G.

“Missed You”--Mulder and Scully are happy to be together again. Set in late season 11. Rated M.

“Now I‘m Sane (But I Would Rather Be Gaga)”– Scully wants to get back out there after the breakup, but it’s not that easy. Rated G. Scully/other with past MSR.

“Slow”--Mulder and Scully decide to take their reunion slow, but that doesn’t last too long. Rated M.

“Take Two”–Along with Mulder, Scully takes a second vacation to Maine. Set post-IWTB, pre-revival. Rated T.

“Three Scully Children Who Went Incommunicado (And One Who Didn’t)”–It’s not that they don’t care about their family. But there were reasons they had to get away. Rated T.

…

Smutty:

“After All These Years”– Mulder and Scully have been together for a long time now, but sometimes the more things change, the more they stay the same. Rated M. Set mid-Season 10.

“Dining Etiquette”–Is it ever okay to eat in bed? Rated M.

“If At First You Don’t Succeed”– After long anticipation, Mulder and Scully’s first time together doesn’t go exactly as planned. As they work a case together, they find this getting in the way of their relationship and must figure out how to navigate this new stage. Rated M. Set during “Syzygy.”

“Just Be”– After “Paper Clip,” Mulder and Scully try to make a moment away from grief. Rated M.

“Massachusetts After Midnight”– After an irritating case, Mulder and Scully make the best of their night. The post-“Teso dos Bichos” smut you’ve always wanted. The Massachusetts entry in the “A Map of Us” challenge. Rated M.

“Refuge”– When they’re in bed together, they can put her illness out of their minds–at least for a little while. Rated M. Cancer arc.

“Six Ways to Warm Up a Cold Basement”– It’s February, and the heat in the X Files office is broken. Mulder and Scully try to find ways to deal with the problem. Rated M. My first fic in the fandom!

“You’re the Only One I Trust (To Slap My Ass)”– Sharing one’s sexual desires with a partner can take a lot of trust. Fortunately, Mulder and Scully have plenty of that. Rated E.

#my fic #the x files #masterpost

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